LINCOLN  ROOM 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF 
PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

And  Other 
War  Detective  Stories 

BY 
JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,   PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1909 


In  this  Centennial  year  of  Lincoln's  birth,  it  has  been  deemed  advisable  to 
lay  special  emphasis  upon  the  title  of  one  of  these  tales,  and  therefore  the  collection 
has  been  renamed  :  "  The  Kidnapping  of  President  Lincoln  and  Other  Stories." 


COPYRIGHT,    1899,  IQO  O,  BY  THE  CURTIS    PUBLISHING    COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,    1000,  BY  DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 


H 


CONTENTS 

FACE 

WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED  .       .        .       i 

IN  THE  ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE 47 

THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN  COY  <  .  .  .  -79 
THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN  .  .  121 
THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY  ...  245 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


"THE  DRIVER  PUT  THE  LASH  TO  THE  HORSES"  .         Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 
"  '  I'LL  NOT  SURRENDER  THE  PAPER  TO  YOU  '  "     .          .          .        15 

"NORA,    WHOSE    INTEREST   AND    CURIOSITY    IMPELLED    HER 

TO  LISTEN  AT  THE  LIBRARY  DOOR'*         .          .          .          .Ill 

"'YOU  NEVER  SEED  ONE  MADE  LIKE  A  RHINOSSYHOSS  '  "    .      1 86 


WHY  THE   CONFEDERACY 
FAILED 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

WHEN  the  surrender  of  Lee's  army  brought  the 
Southern  Confederacy  to  a  sudden  end,  in  1865, 
not  one  Southerner  in  a  hundred  had  prepared  his 
mind  for  the  event.  It  came  as  a  stroke  of  light- 
ning out  of  a  clear  sky.  But  there  were  a  few 
who  thought  they  knew  why  the  surrender  came ; 
who  had  anticipated  it,  in  a  vague  way,  a  year  or 
more  before  the  event;  and  of  these  few  there 
were  two  men  who  regarded  the  outcome  as  the 
result  of  the  direct  interposition  of  Providence, 
although  this  belief  did  not  cause  them  to  bear 
with  resignation  the  cruel  wounds  which  the  result 
inflicted  on  their  hopes  and  their  fortunes.  They 
gave  good  reasons  for  their  foreknowledge  of  the 
collapse  —  reasons  which  the  attentive  reader  will 
doubtless  be  able  to  discover  for  himself  when  the 
facts  are  laid  before  him. 

When  the  deadly  game  of  war  began  in  earnest, 
the  Southern  leaders  found  it  necessary  to  depend 
almost  entirely  on  blockade-running  as  the  means 
of  communicating  with  their  agents  abroad.  But 
this  method  was  a  "skittish"  one  at  best.  Com- 
paratively few  men  could  be  induced  to  engage  in 

3 


ON  THE   WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

it,  and  those  who  were  willing  were  just  the  men 
whose  services  could  be  better  employed  in  other 
directions.  More  than  that,  the  blockade  was 
becoming  more  real  and,  consequently,  more  seri- 
ous every  day.  No  plan  to  elude  the  increasing 
vigilance  of  the  blockaders  could  be  looked  upon 
as  certain  or  definite.  It  was  a  game  of  hazard, 
thrilling  enough  to  attract  the  reckless  and  the 
adventurous,  but  dangerous  enough  to  repel  all 
others.  One  day  with  another,  the  advantages  all 
lay  with  the  grim  war-vessels  that  rocked  lazily  up 
and  down  just  outside  the  Southern  harbors. 

Therefore  it  was  necessary  to  hit  upon  some 
plan  more  definite  and  systematic  to  enable  the 
Confederate  Government  to  communicate  with  its 
agents  in  the  North,  in  Canada,  and  in  Europe. 
Communication  with  Washington  was  easy,  as 
John  Omahundro  (well  known  after  the  war  as 
"Texas  Jack")  and  his  companion  scouts  were 
demonstrating  every  day;  but  it  had  also  been 
demonstrated  that  it  was  a  risky  business  for  any 
scout  or  spy  to  -walk  out  of  Washington,  day  or 
night,  with  an  incriminating  map  or  drawing  or 
document  concealed  on  his  person.  Many  an 
innocent  countryman,  going  away  from  Washing- 
ton after  selling  his  produce,  was  suddenly  seized 
and  stripped  naked,  being  compelled  to  remain  in 
this  plight  while  the  lining  was  ripped  from  his 

4 


WHY   THE   CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

coat,  if  he  had  one,  and  from  his  boots.  He  might 
protest  tearfully,  or  threaten  loudly ;  it  was  all  one 
to  those  who  were  submitting  him  to  this  rough 
investigation. 

Events  of  this  kind  necessarily  went  far  to  make 
the  traffic  in  contraband  information  across  the 
Potomac  as  dangerous  as  running  the  blockade. 
Omahundro  kept  it  up  from  pure  love  of  excite- 
ment and  adventure,  and  played  his  cards  with 
such  apparent  boldness  and  indifference  that  the 
cold  eye  of  suspicion  never  once  glanced  in  his 
direction.  But  he  and  the  few  others  who  followed 
his  initiative  were  not  equal  to  the  necessities  of 
the  Confederate  Government,  and  so  it  was  decided 
that  the  New  York  Hotel,  so  popular  with  South- 
erners before  the  war,  should  be  the  centre  to 
which  information  should  be  sent  and  from  which 
it  should  be  distributed. 

I  saw  an  announcement  the  other  day  to  the 
effect  that  the  old  hotel  had  been  closed  to  the 
public,  and  by  this  time  no  doubt  its  place  has 
been  taken  by  one  of  those  unsightly  and  ridicu- 
lous structures  which  stand  for  pretty  much  all 
that  is  concrete  and  real  in  our  commercial  envi- 
ronment. In  that  event  the  old  building  has  been 
demolished  and  carted  away  as  so  much  rubbish ; 
but  if  that  rubbish  should  find  a  voice,  how  many 
strange  stories  it  could  tell !  The  flat  roof  covered, 

5 


ON  THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

and  the  dull,  unattractive  walls  concealed,  a  thoi 
sand  mysteries. 

Now,  as  Mr.  Lincoln  used  to  put  it,  no  Go1 
ernment  could  sleep  soundly  while  such  a  man  j 
Secretary  Stanton  was  stamping  about  in  the  co 
ridors,  kicking  chairs  over,  and  breaking  bell-cord 
The  Government,  consequently,  was  not  aslee] 
The  great  Secretary  had  early  knowledge  th; 
something  suspicious  was  going  on  in  and  aroun 
the  New  York  Hotel,  and  the  agents  of  the  secr< 
service,  as  well  as  the  most  expert  detectives  tt 
world  could  produce,  gave  it  their  undivided  attei 
tion  for  many  weary  months.  They  followed  man 
a  promising  clew  to  its  unpretentious  entrano 
only  to  see  it  disappear,  or  entered  its  plain  an 
silent  corridors  only  to  come  away  baffled  an 
amazed.  For  while  the  Government  was  wid< 
awake,  the  hotel  seemed  to  be  asleep.  Porter 
waiters,  bell-boys,  even  the  guests  moved  aboi 
with  a  noiseless  politeness.  To  enter  the  dinin 
room  of  the  hotel  was  to  take  refuge  from  th 
chaotic  rumble  and  rattle  of  Broadway ;  was  to  g< 
in  fact,  many  steps  toward  the  subdued  literal 
atmosphere  of  Washington  Square. 

The  hotel  itself,  in  its  own  proper  person,  WE 
supposed  to  have  no  knowledge  of  the  interei 
which  the  Government  was  taking  in  the  mov< 
ments  of  its  guests.  At  any  rate,  it  betrayed  n 

6 


WHY   THE   CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

irritation,  and  was  neither  surprised  nor  alarmed. 
It  went  to  bed  early,  arose  at  dawn,  and  lay  sprawl- 
ing in  sun  or  rain  day  after  day,  to  all  appearances 
blissfully  ignorant  of  the  secret  inquest  which  the 
Government  was  holding  over  its  corpus.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  however,  there  was  not  an  hour  of 
the  twenty-four  when  the  old  hotel  was  not  wide- 
awake, and  fairly  quivering  with  eagerness  to  take 
advantage  of  every  instant's  carelessness  on  the 
part  of  the  cordon  of  gentlemanly  spies  and  de- 
tectives :  fairly  quivering  and  quaking  with  eager- 
ness, and  yet  as  silent,  as  motionless,  and  as 
patient  as  the  animals  whose  instincts  and  necessi- 
ties compel  them  to  catch  and  kill  their  prey.  No 
writer  has  ever  hit  off  this  animal  characteristic  in 
a  phrase.  To  describe  it  you  need  a  term  that 
is  a  hundred  times  more  expressive  than  wariness 
or  cunning,  and  that  gives  a  new  illumination  and 
a  deeper  meaning  to  patience. 

On  the  day  before  Christmas,  in  the  year  1863, 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Captain  Fon- 
taine Flournoy  (he  was  made  a  Colonel  later) 
alighted  from  a  cab  and  entered  the  office  of  the 
New  York  Hotel.  He  paused  in  front  of  the 
clerk's  desk  and  looked  about  him,  as  if  in  doubt 
or  perplexity,  or  as  if  seeking  for  a  familiar  face. 
Though  dressed  in  the  garb  of  a  civilian,  his  figure 
was  still  military. 

7 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  I  was  expecting  to  meet  my  son,"  he  explained 
to  the  smiling  clerk. 

"I  think  he  arrived  this  morning,"  said  that 
functionary.  "  Is  that  his  handwriting  ? "  He 
pointed  to  a  signature  on  the  register,  "  Emory  W. 
Hunt,  Montpelier,  Vermont." 

Captain  Flournoy  gave  a  grunt  of  satisfaction, 
and  signed  beneath  it,  "Frederic  J.  Hunt,  U.  S.  A." 
A  gentlemanly-looking  person,  promenading  about 
the  office,  approached  the  desk  and  inspected  the 
signature. 

"  Show  the  gentleman  to  322,"  said  the  clerk  to 
a  porter,  and  the  two  went  upstairs.  The  porter, 
inspecting  the  tag  of  the  key,  saw  that  it  was  for 
room  328.  He  did  not  pause  to  correct  the  error, 
but  showed  the  guest  to  322,  went  in,  closed  the 
door  carefully,  and  proceeded  to  usher  the  Captain 
through  connecting  rooms  until  328  was  reached. 
In  that  apartment  a  half-dozen  men  were  grouped 
around  a  table.  They  appeared  to  be  playing 
dominoes,  and  were  so  intent  on  the  game  that 
only  one  of  them  looked  up.  Meanwhile  Captain 
Flournoy  unfastened  his  valise,  took  out  a  bundle 
of  papers,  and  laid  it  upon  the  table.  Then  he  re- 
arranged the  contents  of  the  satchel  and  was  es- 
corted back  to  322,  one  of  the  group  playfully 
throwing  a  kiss  after  him. 

In  all  this  he  was  simply  following  to  the  letter 
8 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

the  careful  instructions  that  had  been  given  him  in 
Washington  with  respect  to  his  movements.  This 
was  his  first  experience  in  work  of  this  kind,  and 
the  precautions  he  saw  taken  in  his  behalf,  at  every 
turn  and  crossing,  brought  home  to  him  in  the  most 
vivid  way  the  dangerous  character  of  his  mission. 
If  this  danger  had  taken  tangible  shape,  or  had 
assumed  actual  proportions  such  as  may  be  seen 
when  a  battery  of  guns  spits  out  shot  and  shell 
from  its  red  and  smoking  mouths,  he  would  have 
known  how  to  face  it ;  but  to  be  walking  in  the 
dark,  to  be  groping  blindly,  as  it  were,  with  the 
possibility  of  a  long  imprisonment,  or  even  the  gal- 
lows, at  the  end  of  the  tangle  —  this  was  enough 
to  put  even  his  stout  nerves  to  the  test. 

More  than  this,  on  his  own  responsibility  he  had 
taken  it  upon  himself  to  deliver  in  person  to  the 
authorities  in  Richmond  the  most  important  docu- 
ment he  had  received  at  the  Federal  capital.  This 
document  he  had  detached  from  the  rest,  and  now 
had  it  stored  away  in  the  lining  of  an  undergar- 
ment. It  would  have  been  no  relief  to  Captain 
Flournoy  if  he  had  known  that  the  document 
had  been  missed  by  the  War  Department  not 
twenty  minutes  subsequent  to  its  delivery  into  his 
hands ;  that  the  worthy  official  who  had  it  in 
charge  had  been  promptly  clapped  into  the  Old 
Capital  prison;  and  that  he  himself  had  been 

9 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

accompanied  from  Washington  by  a  special  detec- 
tive in  whom  Secretary  Stanton  had  the  utmost 
confidence. 

This  official  had  long  desired  an  opportunity  to 
uncover  the  conspiracy  that  had  its  site  in  the  New 
York  Hotel,  and  he  rejoiced  now  to  find  that  he 
had  run  his  game  to  earth  in  that  quarter.  His 
name,  which  was  Alonzo  Barnum,  will  have  a 
familiar  sound  to  those  who  saw  it  on  the  title-page 
of  one  of  the  most  interesting  volumes  published 
directly  after  the  war.  It  was  entitled,  "From 
Harlem  to  the  Antarctic." 

Mr.  Barnum  shook  himself  as  he  entered  the 
hotel,  and  smiled  when  he  contemplated  the  regis- 
try-book. 

"When  did  Hunt  arrive?"  he  asked,  as  he 
signed  what  he  called  his  "  travelling  name." 

"  Which  one  ? "  the  cler.k  asked  blandly. 

"  Why,  Frederic,  of  course." 

"  About  ten  minutes  ago.  Want  a  room  ?  Well, 
I'm  sorry,  but  we  are  full  to  the  roof.  It  often 
happens  close  to  the  holiday  season.  We  may 
have  one  vacant  before  night ;  shall  I  save  it  for 
you?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Barnum.  "  Will  you 
send  my  card  up  to  Hunt  ? " 

The  bland  and  rosy  clerk  turned  to  a  tall,  digni- 
fied-looking man  who  was  standing  near  the  coun- 

10 


WHY   THE   CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

ter.  He  was  in  evening  dress,  and  the  garb 
showed  that  he  was  either  a  gentleman  preparing 
to  attend  some  social  function  or  a  dining-room 
servant.  His  countenance  and  his  air  were  those 
of  a  man  of  the  world.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
was  the  head  waiter  of  the  hotel  and  something 
more. 

"McCarthy,"  said  the  clerk,  "will  you  shove 
this  into  room  322  on  your  way  to  the  dining  room? 
The  porter  will  bring  an  answer." 

"With  pleasure,  sir,"  replied  the  head  waiter. 
He  took  the  card  and  marched  up  the  stairway. 
At  room  322  he  stopped  and  knocked,  and  en- 
tered without  an  invitation. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said;  "I  am  the 
head  waiter.  A  gentleman  has  sent  up  his  card." 

"  Well,  I  must  shake  hands  with  you,  McCarthy. 
Omahundro  has  been  telling  me  about  you." 

"What  a  boy  that  is!"  exclaimed  the  head 
waiter.  "  And  so  this  is  Captain  Flournoy  ?  Upon 
my  word,  sir,  we  are  well  met.  Do  you  know  this 
man  Barnes  ?  Amos  Barnes,  it  is.  The  cabman 
was  telling  me  that  he  came  on  your  train  from 
Washington.  He  ordered  his  cab  to  follow  yours, 
and  he  has  no  baggage." 

Captain  Flournoy  frowned  slightly  and  then 
smiled.  "I'm  green  in  this  business,"  he  said; 
"  but  my  impulse  is  to  take  the  bull  by  the  horns 

iz 


ON  THE   WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

I  shall  invite  this  man  up,  and  then  deal  with  him 
as  circumstances  suggest." 

"  I'll  shake  your  hand  once  more,"  exclaimed 
McCarthy,  jubilantly.  "  Barring  Omahundro, 
you're  the  only  one  of  the  whole  crew  that 
didn't  want  to  crawl  under  the  bed  on  the  first 
trip." 

He  went  to  the  door,  called  to  the  porter,  who 
was  waiting  outside,  and  said,  "  Johnny,  go  down 
and  tell  Mr.  Barnes  that  Major  Hunt  will  be  glad 
to  see  him  in  322." 

When  Mr.  Barnes  entered  the  room,  McCarthy, 
the  head  waiter,  was  standing  by  the  fireplace 
talking.  He  was  saying,  "That  boy  of  yours, 
Major,  has  grown  since  last  summer.  I  saw  a 
good  deal  of  him  when  I  went  to  Montpelier,  and 
the  questions  he  asked  about  the  city,  sir !  'Twould 
amaze  you.  He's  uptown  at  a  matinee.  Excuse 
me,  sir  "  —  this  to  the  redoubtable  Mr.  Barnes,  or 
Barnum. 

Captain  Flournoy  was  politeness  itself.  He 
placed  a  chair  for  his  visitor  and  seated  himself 
on  the  side  of  the  bed  in  an  unceremonious 
way.  The  head  waiter  bowed  himself  out.  There 
was  a  moment's  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the 
detective.  He  also  was  to  take  the  bull  by  the 
horns. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  squaring  himself  in  his 
12 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

chair,  "  let  us  deal  plainly  with  each  other. 
Your  name  is  not  Hunt,  and  my  name  is  not 
Barnes." 

"  In  regard  to  personal  matters  you  will  speak 
only  for  yourself,"  said  Captain  Flournoy  with  a 
smile. 

"  Very  well.  I  will  speak  now  of  a  matter  im- 
personal. During  the  last  few  days  a  document 
of  immense  importance  has  been  abstracted  from 
the  War  Department." 

"I  am  well  aware  of  that,"  remarked  Captain 
Flournoy.  "  Otherwise  I  should  be  elsewhere  at 
this  moment." 

"It  contains  the  outlines  of  plans  that  cannot 
be  changed  at  a  moment's  notice." 

"Precisely." 

"  Now  that  document,"  said  the  detective,  "  is 
worth  to  the  Government  at  least  five  thousand 
dollars  in  gold,  —  much  more,  perhaps,  —  certainly 
not  less." 

Captain  Flournoy  placed  one  pillow  on  another 
and  leaned  back  in  a  restful  attitude.  "If  I 
thought  the  Government  would  pay  no  more  than 
five  thousand  dollars  for  the  recovery  of  that  doc- 
ument, I  wouldn't  move  a  hand  in  the  matter,"  he 
declared. 

The  detective  arose  from  his  chair,  and  Captain 
Flournoy  sat  bolt  upright  on  the  bed. 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"Now  what  is  the  use  of  beating  about  the 
bush  ?  "  asked  the  detective. 

"Don't  be  impertinent,  my  friend,"  said  the 
Captain. 

"  You  are  a  Southerner." 

"  Why,  so  is  General  Thomas." 

"  I'll  bet  you  ten  dollars  that  the  document  is  in 
your  valise  there,"  declared  the  detective. 

"  Done !  "  said  the  Captain,  reaching  out  and 
placing  a  gold  piece  on  the  table.  Mr.  Barnum 
did  likewise,  whereupon  Flournoy  kicked  the  valise 
toward  him  and  pocketed  the  money.  But  the 
detective  refused  to  search  the  valise.  Perhaps  he 
feared  some  trick.  The  frankness  of  his  oppo- 
nent was  calculated  to  baffle  him. 

"  I  was  mistaken,"  he  said,  and  then  hesi- 
tated. 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened  and  McCarthy 
stuck  his  head  in.  His  face  was  convulsed  with 
laughter.  "  Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
thought  maybe  you'd  like  to  see  a  funny  sight. 
Two  Government  detectives  have  cornered  a  chap 
in  328,  and  they're  making  him  unload  papers 
enough  to  line  the  hotel  pantry.  If  you  want  to 
see  'em,  sir,  step  right  this  way." 

He  came  into  the  room,  unlocked  the  connecting 
door,  and  pointed  with  his  hand.  Two  rooms 
away  angry  voices  could  be  heard  in  altercation. 

14 


I'LL   NOT   SURRENDER   THE   1'APER  TO  YOU. 


WHY   THE   CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

The  three  went  as  rapidly  as  they  could,  McCar- 
thy bringing  up  the  rear. 

In  328  the  gas  was  turned  low.  In  one  corner 
was  a  man  apparently  at  bay.  He  had  a  pistol  in 
his  hand.  Over  against  him  were  two  men  who 
had  him  covered  with  Colt's  revolvers.  "  I'll  not 
surrender  the  paper  to  you,"  he  was  saying.  "  I'll 
see  you  dead  and  die  myself  first.  You  have 
treated  me  like  a  dog." 

"  What  is  it  all  about  ? "  asked  Mr.  Barnum, 
advancing  into  the  room.  The  door  behind  him 
closed,  and  the  three  men  lowered  their  weapons. 

The  man  who  had  been  at  bay  in  the  corner 
lounged  up  to  the  detective  with  a  grin,  saying, 
"Well,  I'll  be  switched,  Colonel,  if  you  ain't  a 
daisy  from  the  county  next  adjoinin'." 

"  Come,  sir !  "  cried  the  head  waiter.  His  voice 
was  harsh  and  stern,  and  his  attitude  was  that 
of  a  commanding  officer.  "  Come,  sir !  this  is  no 
time  for  buffoonery  !  " 

"  All  right,  Cap ;  I  only  allowed  for  to  kiss  him 
for  his  ma." 

The  head  waiter  laid  his  hand  on  the  shoulder 
of  Mr.  Alonzo  Barnum.  "  You  have  no  need  to 
be  told  what  has  happened.  You  were  doing  your 
duty  as  you  see  it;  we  are  doing  ours.  It  rests 
with  you  whether  you  leave  this  house  with  your 
life." 

15 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

McCarthy  paused,  passed  his  hand  over  his  face, 
and  the  gesture  transformed  him  into  a  head  waiter 
again.  He  turned  to  Captain  Flournoy  with  a 
deferential  smile.  "Will  you  have  dinner  now, 
sir?  It  is  ready." 

It  is  not  necessary  to  relate  here  the  experience 
of  Mr.  Alonzo  Barnum.  It  is  sufficient  to  say 
that  he  awoke  one  morning  and  found  himself  on 
a  vessel  that  a  puffy  little  tug  was  towing  through 
the  bay.  In  a  little  while  the  tug  loosed  its  grip, 
and  the  vessel,  a  Swedish  bark,  swung  slowly 
around  in  the  current  as  the  wind  filled  her  sails. 
Slowly  city  and  harbour  faded  from  view,  and  Mr. 
Barnum  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  long  voyage 
which  he  has  so  graphically  described  in  his  book. 
What  a  pity  he  did  not  take  it  upon  himself  to 
begin  it  by  presenting  the  details  of  his  experi- 
ences immediately  previous  to  his  voyage.  Such 
an  introduction  would  have  given  it  a  human  as 
well  as  a  historical  interest. 

Captain  Flournoy  followed  the  head  waiter  down 
the  stairway  to  the  second  story,  and  so  into  the 
dining  room.  He  observed  quite  a  flutter  among 
the  waiters  when  their  chief  entered.  It  was  as  if 
a  military  company  had  been  suddenly  given  the 
command,  "  Attention  !  " 

Captain  Flournoy  was  conducted  to  the  first 
table  to  the  left  of  the  door  as  he  entered.  At  this 

16 


WHY   THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

table  he  had  no  company,  but  before  he  had  fin 
ished  the  first  course  a  guest  had  seated  himself  in 
the  chair  opposite.  This  newcomer  had  hardly 
given  his  order  for  soup  and  fish  before  the  head 
waiter  approached  Captain  Flournoy  with  the  most 
deprecatory  air,  remarking :  — 

"I'm  very  sorry,  sir ;  but  the  sauterne  is  out. 
Is  there  nothing  else  on  the  card  to  your  taste  ? " 
He  held  the  card  out,  and  across  its  face  Captain 
Flournoy  saw  written,  "  Watch  out !  " 

"No;  I'll  have  a  pony  of  brandy  after  dinner, 
but  that  I  can  get  at  the  bar,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  I'm  sorry  enough,  sir.  You  could  do  better 
than  that  in  Montpelier;  at  your  house,  I  mean, 
sir — not  at  the  hotel.  Oh,  no  —  not  at  the  hotel," 
the  head  waiter  went  on,  keeping  an  eye  on  the 
men  under  him. 

"  And  yet,"  said  the  Captain  with  a  smile,  trans- 
ferring his  thoughts  to  his  own  home  in  the  far 
Southern  town,  "  I  used  to  think  that  the  old  hotel 
was  a  very  fine  affair." 

"  Give  me  your  wine  card,"  the  guest  opposite 
suddenly  demanded. 

"Certainly,  sir,"  replied  the  head  waiter,  pro- 
ducing it  instantly.  The  guest  took  it,  turned  it 
over,  and  remarked,  "Why,  I  saw  you  writing  on 
it  a  while  ago." 

"  What  I  wrote,  sir,  is  in  a  very  blunt  hand.  I 
17 


ON  THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

simply  marked  out  the  pints  of  sauterne."  He 
pointed  to  the  erasure  with  the  pencil  which  he 
had  in  readiness  for  the  guest's  order. 

Captain  Flournoy  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
wondered  in  what  school  of  experience  this  hotel 
servant  had  learned  his  adroitness,  his  tact,  and 
the  composure  which  marked  his  acts  and  his 
utterances.  It  was  all  so  admirable  and  yet  so 
simple ;  and  there  was  a  certain  incongruity  about 
it,  too,  that  caused  the  Captain  to  laugh  inwardly, 
though  outwardly  he  was  gravity  itself.  If  the 
whole  scene  had  been  especially  devised  to  compel 
the  guest  opposite  to  show  his  hand,  it  could  not 
have  succeeded  better. 

Before  the  guest  could  return  the  card  the  head 
waiter  had  gone  to  the  door  to  usher  in  a  number 
of  newcomers.  When  these  had  been  comfortably 
seated,  he  returned,  took  the  card  and  examined  it. 

"  No  order,  sir  ? " 

"A  half  pint  of  claret,"  said  the  guest,  curtly. 
Evidently  his  temper  was  somewhat  ruffled.  In 
fact,  he  was  hot,  though  the  weather  outside  was 
cold  enough  to  make  a  pig  squeal.  He  was  rest- 
less and  expectant,  too,  for  he  moved  nervously  in 
his  chair,  and  drummed  on  the  table,  and  kept  his 
eyes  on  the  entrance.  And  his  anxiety  betrayed 
itself  even  when  his  dinner  had  been  served. 

Several  times  the  head  waiter  was  called  to  the 
18 


WHY   THE   CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

door  and  had  conferences  with  persons  in  the  cor« 
ridor.  After  one  of  the  interviews,  he  returned 
with  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand,  and  went  about 
from  guest  to  guest,  showing  it  and  apparently 
making  inquiries.  Finally  he  came  to  Captain 
Flournoy,  still  holding  the  slip  of  paper. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know,  sir,  a  gentleman  by 
the  name  of  Barnes  —  Amos  Barnes  ? "  His  voice 
was  modulated  to  the  pitch  of  respectful  anxiety. 

"  Why,  I  know  him  casually,"  Captain  Flournoy 
responded  carelessly.  "  He  called  at  my  room  an 
hour  ago." 

"  Do  you  see  him  in  the  dining  room,  sir  ?  There 
is  great  inquiry  for  him ;  he  seems  to  be  wanted  at 
the  nearest  telegraph  office." 

The  Captain  turned  in  his  chair,  putting  on  his 
glasses  as  he  did  so,  and  glanced  at  the  occupants 
of  the  various  tables.  "No,"  he  said  presently; 
"  I  see  no  one  that  resembles  him." 

"  May  I  ask  you  an  impertinent  question  ? "  re- 
marked the  Captain's  vis-a-vis,  as  the  head  waiter 
resumed  his  place  near  the  entrance. 

"  If  it  is  a  necessary  one  —  certainly." 

"  Why  did  Barnes  go  to  your  room  ? " 

"  May  I  give  you  a  frank  reply  ? " 

"  I  should  appreciate  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Captain  Flournoy,  "  he  called  on 
me  because  I  was  a  stranger." 

19 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

**  Did  he  explain  his  visit  ? " 

"  He  did ;  he  suspected  that  I  was  a  Confederate 
spy.  He  explained  that  a  very  important  docu- 
ment had  been  abstracted  from  one  of  the  depart- 
ments at  Washington.  To  take  the  edge  off  his 
duty  he  wagered  that  the  document  was  in  my 
valise.  He  laid  the  wager  and  lost." 

"  If  you  will  pardon  me,  sir,  I'll  say  that  you 
don't  look  like  a  person  who  would  permit  his  valise 
to  be  searched  in  this  way." 

"Well,  when  Mr.  Lincoln  permits  Stanton  to 

send  him  word  that  he's  a fool,  why  should 

the  small  fry  resent  the  liberties  taken  with  them 
by  those  who  are  doing  their  duty  ? " 

Captain  Flournoy  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
regarded  his  opponent  with  a  smile.  As  he  did  so, 
the  head  waiter  came  forward  with  a  deferential  bow. 

"  Two  gentlemen  at  the  farther  table,  sir,  request 
that  you  join  them  before  you  go  out,"  he  said. 
"They  have  a  bottle  between  them,  sir,  and  it 
would  be  as  well  for  some  one  to  share  it  with 
them."  A  peal  of  gleeful  laughter  and  the  clink- 
ing of  glasses  justified  the  suggestion. 

"I'll  be  with  them  in  a  moment,"  Flournoy 
remarked.  "Your  venison  is  famous  to-day, 
McCarthy." 

"  So  it  is,  sir ;  so  it  is,"  assented  the  head  waiter, 
as  he  moved  away.  In  a  moment  he  had  returned, 

20 


WHY   THE   CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

ushering  a  new  guest  to  the  table  at  which  Captain 
Flournoy  sat.  This  new  guest  by  preference  took 
the  chair  next  to  the  gentleman  who  had  engaged 
Flournoy  in  conversation. 

"  He  can't  be  found,"  said  the  newcomer  to  his 
neighbor. 

"  Well,  he  knows  what  he  is  about,"  remarked 
the  other,  and  then  the  two  put  their  heads  to- 
gether and  engaged  in  a  confidential  talk. 

Flournoy  took  advantage  of  this  to  accept  the 
invitation  extended  him  by  the  lively  occupants  of 
another  table  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  He 
had  never  seen  either  of  them  before,  but  under 
the  circumstances  this  made  no  difference.  They 
made  a  very  noisy  demonstration  over  his  arrival, 
slapped  him  on  the  back,  and  displayed  a  familiar- 
ity which  at  any  other  time  Captain  Flournoy  would 
have  resented.  They  told  jokes  at  his  expense. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  what  Hunt  said  to  his  Brig- 
adier when  the  latter  reprimanded  him  for  not 
falling  back  before  the  rebels  at  Stony  Creek?" 
asked  one  in  a  loud  voice. 

"  No  !  no !  "  cried  the  others ;  "  let's  have  it." 

"Why,"  said  the  first  one,  drawing  himself  up, 
and  screwing  a  good-humoured  countenance  into  an 
appearance  of  severity,  "  he  asked  this  question, 
1  When  was  a  soldier  ever  censured  for  standing  his 
ground?'" 

31 


ON  THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

There  were  cries  of  "  Good ! "  the  sound  of  en- 
thusiastic thumping  on  the  table,  and  other  symp- 
toms of  unusual  hilarity  that  carry  their  own 
explanation  with  them. 

But  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  one  of  Flournoy's 
unknown  friends  gave  him  to  understand  that  the 
officers  and  detectives  of  the  Secret  Service  were 
stationed  in  the  corridors,  and  that  in  all  proba- 
bility he  would  be  placed  under  arrest  the  moment 
he  left  the  dining  room. 

"Well,  what  is  to  be  will  be,"  remarked  the 
Captain. 

"  McCarthy  is  coming  this  way,"  said  the  other, 
"  and  as  he's  smiling  we'll  watch  his  manoeuvres." 

In  fact,  the  somewhat  stern  features  of  the  head 
waiter  were  beaming.  He  snapped  his  fingers, 
and  a  waiter  stationed  himself  behind  the  Captain's 
chair.  The  head  waiter  snapped  his  fingers  again, 
and  from  the  kitchen  entry  came  swarming  a 
dozen  waiters.  They  moved  about  from  table  to 
table,  crossing  and  recrossing  one  another,  and 
creating  quite  a  stir,  though  the  tables  were  now 
well  emptied  of  guests.  From  the  front  of  the 
dining  room  this  movement  must  have  seemed  to 
be  very  like  confusion,  but  to  an  experienced  eye 
it  was  the  result  of  much  drilling  and  practice. 
What  it  lacked  was  formality. 

"  There  is  a  towel  by  your  chair,  sir,"  said  the 

22 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

head  waiter  to  Flournoy.  "When  you  stoop  to 
pick  it  up,  throw  it  over  your  left  shoulder,  turn 
your  back  to  the  front,  allow  your  head  and 
shoulders  to  droop,  and  then  go  out  into  the 
kitchen." 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  following  these  in- 
structions. The  scheme  was  simplicity  itself,  so 
transparent,  indeed,  that  even  suspicion  would 
pass  it  by.  Before  it  was  carried  out  the  head 
waiter  had  returned  to  the  front,  where  he  stood 
almost  immovable  until  the  activity  of  the  waiters 
had  subsided.  In  a  few  minutes  the  hilarious 
guests  who  had  called  Flournoy  to  their  table 
came  out. 

"  Didn't  Hunt  say  he'd  wait  for  us?  "  asked  one, 
as  they  came  out. 

"  No,  confound  him !  "  replied  another  loudly. 
"  He  had  to  go  to  the  telegraph  office.  He's 
nothing  but  business." 

"  Pity,  too,"  exclaimed  a  third ;  "  he'sh  fine 
feller."  His  voice  was  somewhat  thick. 

On  each  side  of  the  door  two  men  were  stationed. 
They  made  no  display  of  their  presence,  but  stood 
in  the  attitude  of  men  who  had  met  by  chance 
and  who  had  something  interesting  to  say  to  one 
another.  But  they  narrowly  eyed  each  guest  as 
he  came  out.  Presently  the  last  one,  a  stout, 
middle-aged  gentleman,  a  well-known  habitue1  of 

23 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

the  hotel,  sauntered  forth  and  took  from  the  long 
rack  the  last  hat  left,  and  walked  down  the  corri- 
dor to  the  stairway  in  the  most  amiable  frame  of 
mind.  He  had  made  a  big  deal  at  the  gold 
exchange.  He  had  bought  the  metal  for  a  rise, 
and  greenbacks  had  dropped  several  cents  on  the 
dollar. 

As  he  disappeared,  the  head  waiter  came  to  the 
entrance  and  closed  one  side  of  the  double  door. 
The  four  men  in  the  corridor  regarded  one  another 
tvith  looks  of  mingled  surprise  and  dismay.  One 
of  them  —  the  man  who  had  sat  opposite  to  Cap- 
tain Flournoy  at  the  table  —  beckoned  to  the  head 
waiter. 

"  Are  you  closing  the  dining  room  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Not  entirely,  sir.  We  close  the  doors  at  four. 
It  is  now  three-fifty." 

The  questioner  went  to  the  door  and  looked  in. 
The  dining  room  was  entirely  empty  of  guests,  and 
some  of  the  waiters  had  begun  to  snip  at  one 
another  with  their  towels. 

"  What  has  become  of  the  gentleman  who  sat  at 
table  with  me  ? "  he  asked  with  some  emphasis. 
"  There  were  two,  sir,"  replied  the  head  waiter, 
deferentially. 

"  I  mean  the  one  who  sat  opposite." 

"Major   Hunt?     Why,  he  joined  a  party  at 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

another  table,  but  the  bottle  was  moving  too  fast 
to  suit  his  taste,  sir.  He  had  been  there  not  more 
than  ten  minutes  when  he  excused  himself.  I 
think  he  went  out  before  you  did,  sir." 

"That  is  impossible,"  exclaimed  the  man,  vigor- 
ously. 

"  I  am  simply  giving  you  my  impression,  sir," 
rejoined  the  head  waiter,  politely. 

"  Why,  I'll  swear  — "  the  man  began  excit- 
edly. Then,  as  if  remembering  himself,  he  paused 
and  stared  helplessly. 

"  It  seems  unnatural,  sir,  that  you  shouldn't  see 
him  come  out  if  you  were  standing  here."  The 
extreme  suavity  and  simplicity  of  the  head  waiter 
were  in  perfect  keeping  with  his  position.  "  He 
left  me  a  message  for  his  son  who  is  here.  Says 
he,  'Mack*  —  he  always  calls  me  Mack,  sir  — 
'  Mack,'  says  he, '  when  the  lad  comes  in  tell  him 
not  to  be  uneasy  if  I  fail  to  come  in  to-night. 
,Tell  him,'  says  he,  'that  I'm  engaged  on  some 
important  Government  business,  and  tell  him  to 
meet  me  at  the  custom-house  at  ten  to-morrow 
morning.'  It's  a  pity  you  didn't  make  an  engage- 
ment with  him,  sir,  if  you're  obliged  to  see  him. 
He's  a  fine  man,  a  fine  man." 

With  that  he  turned  and  went  into  the  dining 
room.  In  a  few  minutes  the  door  was  closed  and 
locked,  but  the  four  men  in  the  corridor  still  stared 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

at  one  another.  Three  of  them  were  amazed,  the 
fourth  seemed  to  be  amused. 

"  Well,  what  did  I  tell  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  arrest  the  head 
waiter,"  said  the  one  who  had  questioned  McCarthy. 

"  This  isn't  Washington,"  said  the  amused  one. 
"  Arrest  him  and  in  ten  minutes  you'll  have  an 
Irish  riot  on  your  hands  in  which  nobody  would 
be  hurt  but  ourselves.  Our  orders  are  plain  on 
that  score.  We  can't  afford  to  stir  up  the  popula- 
tion. I  suggest  a  cocktail  all  around.  It  will  give 
us  strength  to  admit  that  we  are  mere  bunglers  by 
the  side  of  Barnum." 

"  I  believe  you,"  acquiesced  another.  "  He  has 
been  here,  got  what  he  came  for,  and  is  by  this 
time  on  his  way  to  Washington." 

It  was  this  belief  that  shed  a  faint  gleam  of 
light  over  a  prospect  otherwise  gloomy. 

Meanwhile,  when  Captain  Flournoy  went 
through  the  swinging  doors  of  the  dining  room 
and  found  himself  in  the  entryway  leading  to  the 
kitchen,  he  was  in  a  quandary  as  to  his  further 
movements.  But  every  step  he  took  seemed  to 
have  been  foreseen  and  provided  for.  He  knew 
that  he  had  talked  too  freely  to  the  guest  who 
sat  at  his  table,  but  how  could  this  emergency 
have  been  forestalled  ?  He  had  left  his  hat  on 
the  rack  or  shelf  in  the  front  of  the  dining  room ' 

36 


WHY   THE  CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

a  waiter  presented  it  to  him  the  moment  he 
slipped  into  the  entryway.  He  was  in  doubt  what 
course  to  pursue ;  an  elderly  gentleman  beckoned  to 
him  with  a  smile.  Following  this  venerable  guide, 
Flournoy  went  down  a  short  flight  of  stairs  and 
into  an  apartment  which  he  recognised  as  the 
drying  room  of  the  laundry.  Thence  he  went  into 
a  narrow  corridor,  ascended  three  flights  of  stairs, 
and  was  ushered  into  the  apartment  which  had 
served  as  a  trap  for  Mr.  Barnum,  or,  as  he  chose 
to  call  himself,  Mr.  Amos  Barnes. 

Some  changes  had  been  made.  Two  hours  ago 
the  room  was  bare  but  for  a  few  chairs  and  a  table, 
but  now  there  was  a  bed  in  the  corner,  a  lounge, 
and  a  comfortable-looking  rocker.  The  table  held 
pens,  ink,  and  writing-paper,  and  a  brisk  fire  was 
burning  in  the  grate.  Everything  had  a  comfort- 
able and  cosey  appearance. 

After  the  strain  under  which  he  had  been,  it 
was  not  difficult  for  Captain  Flournoy  to  adapt 
himself  to  such  circumstances.  He  drew  the 
rocker  before  the  fire  and  gave  himself  up  to 
reflections  which,  whether  pleasing  or  not,  were  of 
a  character  to  engross  his  mind  so  completely 
that  he  failed  to  hear  the  door  swing  open. 
Presently  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder  and  he 
came  back  to  earth  with  a  start.  The  head  waiter 
stood  over  him  smiling. 

27 


ON   THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  Have  a  chair,  my  friend,"  said  Flournoy. 
"  You  have  placed  me  under  great  obligations." 

"  We  have  had  a  very  close  shave,  and  that's  a 
fact,"  remarked  McCarthy,  "but  you  are  under 
no  obligations  to  me.  It's  all  in  the  way  of  duty." 
The  air,  the  attitude  of  an  upper  servant  had 
vanished  completely,  and  Flournoy  was  experi- 
enced enough  to  know  that  he  was  talking  to  a 
man  of  the  world  capable  of  commanding  men. 
"  I  am  a  head  waiter  for  precisely  the  same  reason 
that  you  are  a  —  " 

"  Spy  ? "  suggested  Flournoy,  as  the  other  hesi- 
tated. 

"  No ;  there's  a  flavour  to  that  word  that  doesn't 
suit  my  taste.  Let's  call  it  scout,  or  inspector,  or 
better  still  military  attach^." 

"I  am  simply  a  messenger,"  said  Flournoy, 
modestly. 

"It  is  your  first  experience,  I  imagine,"  sug- 
gested McCarthy.  "  You  are  a  soldier,  and  you 
don't  relish  the  undertaking." 

"  That  is  the  truth,"  Flournoy  assented. 

"Well,  I  was  a  Captain  in  the  Navy,"  explained 
McCarthy,  "  and  now  I  am — what  you  see  me." 

"You  are  still  a  Captain  of  the  Navy,"  said 
Flournoy ;  "  the  house  is  your  ship,  and  the  dining 
room  is  your  quarter-deck." 

McCarthy  laughed  gleefully.  "  I  have  had 
28 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

the  same  conceit  —  oh,  hundreds  of  times!"  he 
cried. 

They  talked  a  long  time,  touching  on  a  great 
variety  of  topics,  and  found  themselves  in  hearty 
agreement  more  often  than  not.  Finally  they 
drifted  back  to  the  matter  in  hand,  and  Flournoy 
confided  to  McCarthy  that  one  of  the  papers  with 
which  he  had  been  intrusted  was  of  so  much  impor- 
tance that  he  had  decided  to  deliver  it  in  person. 

"  Should  this  document  reach  Richmond  by  the 
first  of  February,"  he  said,  "the  Federal  Army 
will  be  captured,  Washington  will  fall,  and  the 
war  will  be  over  by  the  first  of  May." 

"  Are  you  sure  ? "  McCarthy  inquired. 

"  Quite  sure,"  the  other  assented. 

At  this  McCarthy  ceased  to  ask  questions  or  to 
make  comments,  but  sat  for  a  long  time  gazing  in 
the  fire.  Flournoy  forbore  to  interrupt  his  reflec- 
tions, and  the  most  absolute  silence  reigned  in  the 
room. 

Presently  McCarthy  straightened  himself  in  his 
chair.  "The  documents  you  left  with  the  com- 
mittee this  afternoon  will  reach  Richmond  in  five 
days,"  he  remarked  somewhat  dryly.  "They 
start  at  midnight." 

This  seemed  to  be  so  much  in  the  nature  of  a 
suggestion  that  Flournoy  was  moved  to  ask  his 
advice. 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  Shall  I  include  this  document  with  the  other 
papers  ?  "  he  inquired  earnestly. 

McCarthy  shook  his  head  slowly  and  indeci- 
sively. "  It's  a  serious  question,"  he  said.  "  Ten 
minutes  ago,  on  an  impulse,  I  should  have  said 
send  it  with  the  rest  by  all  means  —  by  all  means ; 
but  now —  Do  you  know,"  he  went  on,  with 
great  earnestness,  "  I  am  getting  to  be  superstitious 
about  this  war.  Look  at  it  for  yourself."  He 
waved  his  hand  as  if  calling  attention  to  a  pano- 
rama spread  out  on  the  walls  of  the  room.  "  First, 
there  is  Mr.  Lincoln.  He  went  to  Washington  a 
country  boor.  What  is  he  now  ?  Why,  he 
manages  the  politicians,  the  officials,  —  the  whole 
lot,  —  precisely  as  a  chess-player  manages  his 
pieces,  and  he  never  makes  a  mistake.  Doesn't 
that  seem  queer  ? " 

Captain  Flournoy,  gazing  in  the  glowing  grate, 
nodded  his  head.  Some  such  idea  had  already 
crossed  his  mind. 

"  Then  there's  the  first  Manassas  —  Bull  Run," 
McCarthy  went  on.  "  Does  it  seem  natural  that 
a  victorious  army  which  had  utterly  routed  its 
enemy  would  fail  to  pursue  the  advantage?  Is 
it  according  to  human  nature  ? " 

Again  Flournoy  nodded. 

"  Finally,  take  into  consideration  the  case  of  the 
Merrimac"  continued  McCarthy.  "  She  had 

30 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

barely  begun  to  perform  the  work  she  was  cut  out 
to  do  when  around  the  corner  came  the  Monitor, 
a  match  and  more  than  a  match  for  her.  Does 
that  look  like  an  accident,  or  even  a  coinci- 
dence ? " 

At  this  Captain  Flournoy  turned  in  his  chair 
and  regarded  his  companion  with  a  very  grave 
countenance. 

"Do  you  know,"  remarked  McCarthy,  "that  I 
had  everything  arranged  to  take  charge  of  the 
Merrimac?  It  was  a  very  great  disappointment 
to  me  when  it  was  found  that  she  couldn't  be 
manoeuvred  to  advantage." 

"You  think,  then,  that  Providence  — "  Flour- 
noy hesitated  to  speak  the  words  in  his  mind. 

"Judge  for  yourself.  You  have  the  facts.  I 
could  mention  other  circumstances,  but  these  three 
stand  out.  As  an  old  friend  of  mine  used  to  say, 
they  toot  out  like  pot-legs." 

"  But  if  you  think  Providence  has  a  hand  in  the 
matter,  why  call  yourself  superstitious  ? "  Flournoy 
inquired. 

"  'Twas  a  convenient  way  of  introducing  what  I 
had  to  say,"  replied  McCarthy. 

Silence  fell  on  the  two  for  a  time.  Finally 
McCarthy  resumed  the  subject.  "  You  say  this 
document  will  enable  the  Confederates  to  win  the 
day  and  put  an  end  to  the  war  ?  " 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"I  do,"  Flournoy  insisted;  "I  believe  so  sin 
cerely.  It  embodies  plans  that  cannot  possibly  be 
altered  because  the  success  of  the  Federals  depends 
upon  them,  and  it  will  enable  General  Lee  and  the 
Confederate  authorities  to  checkmate  every  move 
made  by  our  enemies  on  land  from  now  on.  Do 
you  know  that  in  the  early  spring  Grant  is  to  be 
given  command  of  all  the  Federal  forces?  That 
is  the  least  important  information  the  document 
contains." 

"A  truly  comprehensive  paper,"  remarked 
McCarthy  gravely.  "  It  falls  directly  in  the 
category  of  Lincoln,  Manassas,  and  the  Merri- 
mac,  and  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see." 

"You  are  certain  the  rest  of  the  papers  will 
reach  Richmond  safely  ? "  Flournoy  asked. 

"  Those  you  turned  over  to  the  committee  ?  As 
certain  as  that  I  am  sitting  here." 

"Then  let  us  place  this  other  document  with 
them,"  suggested  Flournoy. 

"  If  you  think  it  best,  certainly,"  said  McCarthy 
with  alacrity. 

Flournoy  reflected  a  moment.  "  No ;  I'll  carry 
out  my  first  impulse,"  he  declared.  He  rose  and 
paced  across  the  room  once  or  twice.  Then  he 
turned  suddenly  to  McCarthy.  "  Shall  we  toss 
a  penny  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No!  no!"  cried  the  other,  with  a  protesting 
32 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

gesture.  "It  is  folly  to  match  chance  against 
Providence." 

"Then  the  matter  is  settled,"  said  Flournoy, 
decisively. 

"  It  was  settled  long  ago,"  McCarthy  remarked 
solemnly. 

The  Southern  soldier  looked  hard  at  his  com- 
panion, trying  to  find  in  his  countenance  an  inter- 
pretation of  his  remark.  But  McCarthy's  face 
was  almost  grim  in  its  impassiveness. 

He  arose  as  Flournoy  resumed  his  seat.  "You 
will  have  your  supper  here,  and  your  breakfast 
also.  To-morrow  morning  you  may  be  able  to 
start  on  your  journey.  Do  you  go  west  or  north  ? 
Ah,  west ;  but  it  is  a  long  way  round.  Did  you 
ever  try  the  Cumberland  route  ?  Omahundro  would 
know  which  is  the  easiest." 

"He  advised  the  western  route  because  I  am 
familiar  with  it,"  explained  Flournoy. 

McCarthy  bowed,  and  in  doing  so  became  the 
head  waiter  again.  The  deferential  smile  flickered 
about  his  stern  mouth,  and  then  flared  up,  as  it 
were,  changing  all  the  lines  of  the  face ;  and  the 
straight  and  stalwart  shoulders  stooped  forward 
a  little  so  that  humility  might  seat  itself  in  the 
saddle. 

"  I  must  be  going  about  my  duties,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  I  may  call  to  bid  you  good  night.  If  I  should 

33 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

not,  may  your  dreams  be  pleasant."  He  bowed 
himself  out,  and  Flournoy  sat  wondering  at  the 
fortunes  of  war  and  the  curious  demands  of  duty 
which  had  made  a  spy  of  him  and  a  head  waiter 
of  Lawrence  McCarthy.  He  mused  over  the 
matter  until  he  fell  asleep  in  his  chair,  where  he 
nodded  comfortably  until  a  waiter  touched  him 
on  the  arm  and  informed  him  his  supper  was 
served. 

"  Did  you  think  I  had  company  ? "  Flournoy 
asked.  "  You've  brought  enough  for  Company  B 
of  the  Third  Georgia." 

"'Tis  a  sayin',  sir,  that  travel  sharpens  the 
appetite,"  said  the  waiter,  smiling  brightly.  Then, 
"The  Third  Georgia  is  Colonel  Nisbet's  ridgment; 
'tis  in  Ranse  Wright's  brigade.  To  be  sure,  I  know 
'em  well,  sir.  Should  ye  be  goin'  to  Augusty,  an' 
chance  to  see  James  Nagle,  kindly  tell  'im  ye've 
seen  Terence  an'  he's  doin'  well.  He's  me  father, 
sir,  an'  he  thinks  I'm  in  Elmiry  prison." 

"How  did  you  get  out?  Did  you  take  the 
oath?" 

"  Bless  ye,  sir,  'twas  too  strong  for  me  stomach. 
I'll  never  tell  ye,  sir,  whether  I  escaped  by  acci- 
dent or  design.  'Twas  this  way,  sir.  I  was  in 
the  hospital,  sir,  an'  whin  I  got  stronger,  Father 
Rafferty,  seem'  my  need  of  trousers,  brought  me  a 
pair  of  blue  ones.  The  next  day  he  comes  in  a 

34 


WHY   THE   CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

barouche  along  with  an  officer.  He  says  to  me, 
'  Terence,  here's  a  coat  to  go  with  the  trousers/ 
says  he.  '  Ye  see  the  man  drivin'  the  barouche  ? ' 
says  he.  *  Well,'  says  he,  '  whin  I  go  inside,  he'll 
fall  down  an'  have  a  fit,'  says  he,  '  an'  do  ye  be 
ready/  he  says,  '  to  hold  the  horses  whiles  I  sind 
out  the  doctor/  he  says.  Well,  sir,  'twas  like  a 
theatre  advertisement.  Down  comes  the  man  with 
a  fit,  an'  if  he  had  one  spasm,  he  had  forty.  The 
horses  were  for  edging  away,  sir,  but  I  caught  'em 
an'  helt  'em.  'Take  'im  inside/  says  the  officer, 
'  an'  'tend  to  'im/  he  says,  '  an'  do  ye,  me  man/  he 
says  to  me,  'get  up  there  an'  drive  me  back  to 
quarters/  he  says.  '  How  about  Father  Rafferty  ?' 
I  says.  'Oh,  as  fer  that/  he  says,  'he'll  be  took 
with  a  fever  if  son  Terence  turns  out  to  be  a  driv- 
elin'  idjut/  he  says.  I  looked  at  'im  hard,  sir,  an' 

he  looked  at  me.  Says  he,  '  D ye,  will  ye 

drive  on  ? '  It  was  Captain  McCarthy,  sir." 

Flournoy  laughed,  though  he  would  have  found 
it  difficult  to  explain  why.  The  reason  doubtless 
was  that  such  boldness  and  simplicity  seemed  so 
foreign  to  our  complex  civilization  that  they  struck 
the  note  of  incongruity.  "He  is  a  queer  man,"  he 
remarked. 

"Queer,  sir?"  said  the  waiter.  "Oh,  no,  sir; 
not  queer.  He's  simple  as  a  little  child.  He's  a 
grand  man,  sir — nothin'  less  than  that."  There 

35 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

was  no  doubt  of   Terence    Nagle's  enthusiastic 
loyalty  to  his  employer. 

Supper  was  duly  despatched,  the  waiter  enliven- 
ing the  meal  with  many  anecdotes  of  his  own  expe- 
rience in  the  Confederate  Army  and  in  prison. 
Flournoy  found  that  they  had  many  acquaintances 
in  common,  and  more  than  once  when  Terence 
was  for  returning  to  the  dining  room,  the  guest 
found  various  excuses  for  detaining  him. 

But  he  went  at  last,  after  replenishing  the  fire, 
and  Captain  Flournoy  sat  long  before  it,  wonder- 
ing over  the  chain  of  circumstances  by  which  he 
had  been  dragged,  rather  than  led,  into  his  present 
position.  He  took  no  thought  of  time,  and  was 
surprised  when  he  heard  a  clock  in  a  distant  room 
strike  eleven.  By  the  time  the  sound  had  died 
away  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door  attracted  his  atten- 
tion, and,  following  his  invitation,  Terence  Nagle 
came  in,  bearing  a  waiter  on  which  was  a  bowl,  a 
silver  ladle,  and  three  glasses.  In  another  moment 
the  head  waiter  came  in.  He  had  doffed  his  even- 
ing dress,  the  badge  of  his  position,  and  with  it 
dropped  the  air  and  manner  he  assumed  in  the 
dining  room.  He  was  now  himself,  the  educated 
Irishman,  a  fine  specimen  of  a  class  that  can  be 
matched  in  few  of  the  nations  of  the  earth. 

"  Do  you  know  the  day  ?  "  he  asked  when,  obey- 
ing Flournoy's  gesture,  he  seated  himself. 

36 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Southerner,  "  it  is  Christmas 
Eve." 

"And  hard  upon  Christmas,"  said  McCarthy. 
"I  hope  that  our  Lord  who  is  risen  will  have 
mercy  upon  us  all,  and  help  us  to  carry  out  all 
our  plans  that  are  not  contrary  to  His  own." 

"  Amen ! "  responded  Flournoy.  It  was  like 
grace  before  meat,  only  simpler  and  less  formal. 

"  Remembering  the  day,  and  the  custom  we 
have  at  the  South,"  McCarthy  explained,  "  I  have 
taken  the  liberty  of  brewing  you  a  bowl  of  nog. 
'Twill  be  a  reminder  of  old  times,  if  nothing  else." 

Flournoy's  face  brightened.  "  My  friend,  you 
seem  to  think  of  everything,"  he  declared.  "  The 
very  flavour  of  it  will  carry  me  straight  home." 

"  'Twas  no  thought  of  mine.  I  have  a  little  lass 
who  comes  to  fetch  me  my  toggery  in  the  after- 
noons. I  was  telling  her  of  the  Southern  gentle- 
man so  far  from  home,  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  and  says  she,  '  Dada,  darling,  why  not  make 
the  gentleman  a  bowl  of  nog  for  his  Christmas 
gift  ? '  It  is  wonderful  how  thoughtful  the  women- 
folk are,  and  how  tender-hearted.  I'll  fill  your 
glass,  sir." 

"  And  yours,"  insisted  Flournoy. 

"  To  be  sure,"  cried  McCarthy,  "  and  one  for  my 
lieutenant,  Terence  Nagle.  See  the  lad  blush! 
You'd  think  he  was  a  girl  by  the  way  he  reddens, 

37 


ON   THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

Yet  with  half  a  dozen  men  like  him  I  could  meet  a 
company  of  regulars." 

"  He's  overdoin'  it,  sir ! "  Terence  protested ; 
"he's  overdoin'  it."  The  lad  was  so  overcome 
he  dropped  a  glass  on  the  floor,  but  the  carpet 
saved  it. 

"Were  you  ever  drunk?"  McCarthy  asked, 
after  they  had  made  away  with  the  nog.  The 
inquiry  was  bluntly  put,  and  Flournoy  looked 
hard  at  his  companion. 

"Yes;  once  when  I  was  a  youngster  of  fourteen. 
It  was  at  a  corn-shucking,"  he  replied. 

"Well,  recall  your  feelings  and  actions  if  you 
can.  To-morrow  morning  you  must  not  only  be 
drunk  —  you  must  be  very  drunk." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Flournoy. 

"  To-morrow  morning  a  cabman  will  be  waiting 
for  a  fare  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  opposite 
this  window.  The  blinds  must  be  opened  early, 
but  some  one  will  attend  to  that.  If  the  sun  is 
shining,  the  cabman  will  take  out  his  watch.  The 
hour  will  be  anywhere  from  nine  to  ten.  The  sun 
will  shine  on  the  face  of  his  watch,  and  the  reflec- 
tion will  be  thrown  on  the  wall  of  your  room.  If 
the  sun  is  obscured,  you  will  hear  a  policeman's 
rattle.  Then  your  spree  must  begin.  And  make 
it  a  jolly  one.  Here  is  a  small  pistol  loaded  with 
blank  cartridges.  Use  it  at  your  discretion.  At 

38 


WHY  THE   CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

the  head  of  the  stairs  you  will  fall  into  the  arms  of 
a  big  policeman,  who  will  be  joined  by  another. 
Take  no  offence  if  they  hustle  you.  A  bruise  or 
two  won't  hurt  you.  It  is  all  for  the  good  of  the 
cause." 
"But  —  " 

"  It's  our  only  chance.  I  can  see  that  you  have 
a  temper ;  don't  lose  it  with  our  friends,  the  police- 
men. They  will  have  a  very  critical  crowd  to  play 
to,  and  must  play  as  if  they  meant  business.  I 
must  bid  you  good  night." 

"  One  moment,"  said  Flournoy.  He  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  five-dollar  gold  piece  and  laid  it  on 
the  table. 

McCarthy  drew  back,  his  face  flushing.  "  What 
-is  that  for? "  he  asked  sternly. 

"  It  is  a  Christmas  gift  for  your  daughter." 
"  For  Nora !  "  cried  the  other ;  "  why,  she'll  be 
the  happiest  lass  in  the  town ! "  His  eyes  sparkled 
and  his  whole  manner  changed.  "  This  must  be 
my  real  good  night,"  he  went  on.  "  I  have  work 
to  do  and  you  will  need  rest."  He  went  out,  fol- 
lowed by  Terence. 

Captain  Flournoy  was  up  betimes,  his  plantation 
habits  following  him  wherever  he  went.  But  he 
was  not  a  man  on  whose  hands  time  hung  heavily. 
Just  now  one  of  his  windows  commanded  a  view 
of  about  twenty  feet  of  Broadway,  and  he  watched, 

39 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

with  more  interest  than  usual,  the  fluctuating  stream 
of  humanity  that  flowed  through  it.  When  he  grew 
tired  of  that  panorama,  he  had  his  own  thoughts 
for  company,  and  the  thoughts  that  are  bred  by  a 
cheerful  disposition  are  the  best  of  companions. 
And  then  he  had  in  his  pocket  a  copy  of  Virgil. 
Under  such  circumstances  only  a  man  with  a  bad 
conscience  could  be  either  lonely  or  gloomy. 

Presently  his  breakfast  came,  and  by  the  time 
Terence  had  cleared  away  the  fragments  nine 
o'clock  had  struck,  and  the  sky,  which  had  been 
overcast  in  the  early  morning  hours,  was  clear. 
At  nine,  too,  a  closed  cab  came  leisurely  from 
the  direction  of  Washington  Square  and  took  up 
its  position  in  the  side  street  opposite  the  ladies' 
entrance  of  the  hotel.  From  behind  the  curtains 
Flournoy  watched  the  driver  closely,  and  never 
once  did  the  man  give  so  much  as  a  side  glance 
at  the  upper  windows  of  the  hotel.  His  curiosity 
seemed  to  be  dead.  For  a  while  he  read  a  news- 
paper, nor  did  he  cease  from  reading  when  a  man, 
passing  quickly  by,  pitched  a  small  valise  into  the 
cab.  But  presently  the  paper  palled  on  him,  and 
he  folded  it  neatly  and  tucked  it  away  under  the 
cushion.  Then  he  looked  at  the  sun,  and,  as  if  to 
verify  the  time  of  day,  pulled  out  his  watch  and 
sprung  the  case  open.  The  reflection  from  the 
crystal,  or  from  the  burnished  case,  flashed  through 

40 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

Flournoy's  window,  and  danced  upon  the  wall,  once, 
twice,  thrice. 

Now  was  the  time  to  act,  and  act  promptly,  but 
Flournoy  paused  and  drew  a  long  breath.  The 
whole  business  seemed  to  be  child's  play.  He 
seized  his  overcoat  by  one  sleeve,  slung  it  over  his 
shoulder,  threw  open  the  door,  gave  a  fox-hunter's 
view-halloo,  —  the  same  that  is  called  the  "rebel 
yell,"  —  fired  two  blank  cartridges,  and  went  stag- 
gering blindly  along  the  corridor,  crying,  "  There 
'e  goes !  there  'e  goes  !  I'll  shoot  'im.  Out  o'  the 
way  an'  lemme  shoot  'im  !  " 

At  the  head  of  the  stairs  a  policeman  loomed  up 
as  big  as  a  giant.  "  Come  out  o'  this,  ye  maun- 
derin'  divil !  "  he  cried.  "  They  tell  me  ye've  been 
kapin'  the  house  awake  the  livelong  night.  Be 
aisy,  or  I'll  twist  yure  dommed  neck,  ye  dribblin' 
idjit!" 

"  Fling  'im  down  to  me,  Tim,  while  I  whale  the 
jimmies  out  av  'im.  'Tis  the  second  time  the 
howlin'  divil  has  broke  loose  the  fortnight."  This 
from  the  policeman  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

Now,  while  these  policemen  were  talking,  they 
were  also  acting.  They  cuffed  Flournoy  about 
between  them,  and  knocked  and  dragged  and  bun- 
dled him  along  with  a  zeal  that  was  almost  unbear- 
able. By  the  time  they  reached  the  sidewalk  he 
was  limp  and  exhausted,  but  he  did  not  fail  to 

4' 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

notice  that  Terence  Nagle  was  prominent  in  the 
considerable  crowd  collected  there. 

"Take  'im  to  the  hospital,  Tim;  'tis  the  only 
way  to  clear  the  jimmies  from  his  head." 

"  The  hospital !  "  cried  Terence  Nagle ;  "  an'  if 
he  was  a  poor  man,  he'd  be  hauled  to  the  station 
an'  be  left  there  !  " 

"  Ain't  it  the  truth !  "  exclaimed  a  keen-faced, 
shabby-looking  man. 

"  Cheese  it ! "  cried  the  policeman  who  had  been 
left  behind ;  "  cheese  it  an'  move  on,  ivery  livin* 
sowl  av  ye !  " 

By  this  time  the  cab  was  rattling  away  up  Fifth 
Avenue.  "  You  fellows  have  heavy  hands,"  said 
Flournoy  to  his  companion  when  he  had  pulled 
himself  together. 

"  Faith,  we  had  to  limber  ye  up,  Cap.  Why,  ye 
don't  know  the  A  B  C  av  a  jag.  Whin  ye  landed 
me  one  in  the  jaw,  I  says  to  meself,  '  Bed  ad,  av  he 
goes  down  hittin'  straight  an'  hard  like  this,  he'll 
be  nabbed  be  thim  keenies  at  the  dure,'  says  I,  an' 
I  tipped  the  wink  to  Moike  an'  we  doubled  ye  up 
same  ez  jinin'  the  Improved  Order  av  Red  Min, 
sorr.  All  we  needed  to  give  the  job  reg'larity, 
sorr,  was  the  pile-driver." 

At  Fortieth  Street  the  cab  halted,  the  policeman 
shook  hands  with  Flournoy  and  got  out,  and  in  a 
very  short  time  thereafter  the  latter  found  himself 

43 


WHY   THE  CONFEDERACY   FAILED 

at  the  passenger  station  of  the  New  York  Central. 
He  descended  from  the  cab,  and  was  about  to  pay 
the  fare  when  the  cabman  lifted  his  hat  with 
"  Good  luck  to  you,  sir,"  touched  up  his  horse  and 
went  whirling  away. 

Two  weeks  afterward,  Captain  Flournoy,  with  a 
companion,  a  scout  who  knew  the  country  well, 
was  feeling  his  way  southward  through  West  Vir- 
ginia. They  had  good  horses,  but  travelled  mainly 
at  night  As  they  drew  near  the  Virginia  line, 
Flournoy's  uneasiness  became  perceptible.  The 
important  document  he  carried  became  a  burden 
almost  intolerable  to  him,  whereas  the  scout,  one 
James  Kirkpatrick,  grew  gayer  and  gayer  with 
each  passing  hour.  While  Flournoy  was  riding 
gloomily  along,  Kirkpatrick  was  whistling  or  sing- 
ing softly  all  the  lilting  tunes  he  knew.  One 
night,  in  a  heavily  wooded  valley,  the  wayfarers 
scented  danger.  They  heard  a  horse  whinnying, 
the  clinking  of  spurs,  and  the  rattling  of  sabres  or 
carbines. 

"  It's  the  Yanks,"  said  Kirkpatrick. 

"  You  know  this  country,  you  say  ?  "  queried 
Flournoy. 

"  Like  a  book,"  replied  the  other. 

"  Well,  here  is  a  paper  as  important  to  the  Con- 
federacy as  Lee's  army.  Stow  it  in  an  inner 
pocket,  and  if  anything  should  happen  to  me,  do 

43 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

you  ride  right  on  to  Richmond.  You  have  the  fate 
of  your  country  in  your  hands." 

"  Phew !  "  whistled  Kirkpatrick  softly.  In- 
stantly  a  voice  cried  "  Halt !  " 

"Do  you  save  yourself,"  said  Flournoy,  and 
spurred  forward,  while  Kirkpatrick  turned  to  the 
left,  struck  a  footpath,  and  went  clattering  away 
in  the  gloom.  Captain  Flournoy  spurred  for- 
ward and  found  himself  in  the  arms  of  the 
Confederate  videttes.  In  a  moment  he  heard 
shots  as  of  skirmishers  firing  and  falling  back. 
In  the  distance  they  heard  the  drums  beating  to 
arms. 

"Your  friend  has  stampeded  a  whole  Yankee 
brigade,"  remarked  one  of  the  videttes. 

But  this  was  a  mistake.  Kirkpatrick  was  lying 
dead  not  a  mile  away,  killed  by  a  stray  bullet.  It 
was  his  horse  running  wild  that  disturbed  the  Fed- 
eral camp. 

Next  morning  the  Federals  advanced,  feeling 
their  way  cautiously.  One  of  their  skirmishers, 
a  German,  found  Kirkpatrick  stark  and  stiff.  He 
appropriated  the  dead  man's  overcoat,  searched 
his  pockets  for  valuables,  and  found  the  document 
that  was  to  decide  the  fate  of  the  Confederacy. 
He  looked  at  it  critically,  crumpled  it  in  his  hand, 
and  made  as  if  to  throw  it  away.  A  second 
thought  caused  him  to  cram  it  in  one  of  his 

44 


WHY  THE  CONFEDERACY  FAILED 

pockets,  where  it  remained  until  he  needed  some- 
thing with  which  to  light  his  pipe. 

On  the  fourth  of  the  following  March  Grant  was 
made  General-in-Chief  of  the  land  forces  of  the 
United  States,  and  the  programme  set  forth  in  the 
paper  —  Grant's  move  on  Virginia  and  Sherman's 
march  to  the  sea  —  was  promptly  begun  and  car- 
ried out 


IN   THE   ORDER  OF  PROVI- 
DENCE 


IN  THE  ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE 

IT  is  impossible  for  the  present  generation  to 
realise  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  wound  in- 
flicted on  the  Southern  people  of  that  day  by  the 
surrender  of  Lee's  army  in  1865 ;  and  assuredly 
it  is  beyond  description.  No  historian  will  ever 
be  able  to  explain  it  or  make  its  characteristics 
manifest  to  the  modern  mind.  It  is  fortunate, 
perhaps,  that  this  is  so.  A  population  can  go 
through  such  an  experience  but  once  in  its  his- 
tory. No  disaster  that  might  overtake  us  now 
could  match  that  which  marked  the  defeat  and 
dissolution  of  the  Confederate  Army.  And  the 
reason  lies  on  the  surface :  it  is  an  experience  that 
makes  provision  against  itself.  On  the  tender 
hand  unused  to  labour  a  blister  is  succeeded  by  a 
callous,  and  so  it  is  with  the  heart.  Sensibilities 
wounded  and  torn  can  never  again  respond  as 
sharply  and  as  keenly  to  the  pangs  of  misfortune 
and  disappointment.  One  journey  through  the 
furnace  of  despair  gives  a  long  vacation  to  those 
qualities  that  are  as  rare  and  as  fine  as  the  rain- 
bow sheen  on  a  piece  of  silk  —  as  restless  and  as 
vivid.  And  there  is  something  grievous  and  un- 

49 


ON   THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

comfortable  in  the  consolation  that  time  offers,  for 
qualities  thus  consumed  will  hardly  be  missed  save 
by  those  who  have  been  witnesses  to  the  beauty 
and  perfection  of  their  play,  and  who  knew  their 
import. 

The  miracle  of  dissolution  happened.  The 
earthquake  arose,  shook  itself,  yawned  and  fell 
back  into  its  abyss,  carrying  with  it  the  whole 
structure  and  fabric  of  a  newly  formed  govern- 
ment and  the  dearest  hopes  of  those  who  had  con- 
tributed to  its  upbuilding.  Hundreds  of  men  and 
women  never  recovered  from  the  shock.  Some  of 
them  pined  away  and  died ;  others  lived  on,  as  it 
were,  in  a  dream;  while  still  others,  cast  in  an 
adventurous  mould,  betook  themselves  into  self- 
imposed  exile. 

Among  these  exiles  was  Colonel  Fontaine  Flour- 
noy,  who  had  risked  his  life  on  many  fields  and  in 
divers  ways  in  behalf  of  the  Confederacy.  Some 
of  the  undertakings  in  which  he  engaged  were 
such  as  most  men  shrank  from,  but  he,  as  his 
name  implied,  came  from  a  family  given  over  to 
valorous  deeds  and  romantic  adventures ;  for  this 
name  comes  down  from  the  days  of  chivalry,  when 
the  Knight  of  the  Black  Flower  (Fleur  Noire)  made 
his  nom  de  guerre  so  famous  that  it  usurped  the 
place  of  the  family  surname. 

Taking  all  these  things  into  consideration,  it  is 
5° 


IN   THE   ORDER   OF   PROVIDENCE 

small  wonder  that  Colonel  Flournoy  considered 
himself  an  exile  and  a  wanderer  —  a  man  without 
a  country  —  from  the  moment  that  Lee  surren- 
dered his  army.  He  was  an  officer  in  the  Confed- 
erate Army  on  detached  service.  Two  weeks 
before  the  surrender  he  was  in  New  York  City ;  a 
week  afterward  he  was  piloting  the  remnants  of 
the  Confederate  Government  southward,  and  lend- 
ing active  assistance  in  guarding  the  treasure  which 
was  carried  along  with  it. 

At  Washington,  in  Wilkes  County,  Georgia,  this 
treasure  was  divided,  and  an  amount  sufficiently 
large  fell  to  Colonel  Flournoy's  share  to  enable 
him  to  carry  out  his  purposes.  He  pushed  on  to 
Middle  Georgia,  where  his  home  was ;  made  provi- 
sion for  the  wants  of  his  wife  and  son,  a  lad  of  six- 
teen ;  bade  them  good-by,  and,  with  General  Toombs 
for  a  companion,  made  his  way  to  the  Florida  coast. 
Here  the  two  Confederates  parted  company. 
Toombs  went  to  Europe,  while  Flournoy  went  to 
Cuba,  and  from  that  island  found  his  way  to  South 
America. 

His  adventures  in  those  queer  republics,  seeth- 
ing with  revolutions,  rebellions,  and  riots,  were 
numerous  enough  to  fill  a  book  of  romance;  but 
it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  in  the  course  of  five 
years  he  returned  home  with  a  fortune  consider- 
ably larger  than  the  one  which  war  had  taken 

SI 


UNIVERSITY  QF  U.UNO|| 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

from  him.  He  returned,  bent  on  enjoying  a  life 
of  elegant  ease  after  his  turbulent  career.  But 
the  best  part  of  his  vigour  was  spent.  To  sustain 
himself  in  the  Civil  War  and  in  the  South  Ameri- 
can troubles,  where  he  had  seated  and  unseated 
more  than  one  government,  he  had  been  com- 
pelled to  employ  the  store  of  energy  that  should 
have  been  reserved  for  old  age  to  draw  upon.  He 
had  enjoyed  the  companionship  of  his  family  and 
his  friends  not  more  than  a  year  when  he  fell  a 
victim  to  a  disease,  the  seeds  of  which  he  had 
brought  with  him  from  the  tropical  swamps  and 
jungles  where  his  later  campaigns  had  carried 
him. 

It  need  not  be  said  that  the  death  of  Colonel 
Flournoy  occasioned  deep  grief  to  all  who  knew 
him.  Where  his  personal  friendship  had  not  an 
opportunity  to  go  his  gentle  courtesy  went,  and 
even  those  who  had  been  made  the  object  of  one 
of  his  casual  salutations  regarded  him  thereafter 
as  something  more  than  an  acquaintance.  His 
obsequies  were  very  imposing  by  reason  of  the 
multitude  that  gathered  together  to  pay  the  last 
tribute  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  the  most  nota- 
ble private  citizen  of  Middle  Georgia. 

So  far  as  Colonel  Flournoy's  immediate  neigh- 
bours were  concerned,  there  was  one  disclosure  fol- 
lowing hard  upon  the  heels  of  the  funeral  discourse 


IN  THE   ORDER   OF  PROVIDENCE 

(delivered  with  such  genuine  feeling  and  simple 
eloquence  by  Rev.  Sampson  White)  that  for  a  time 
stopped  the  mouth  of  friendly  reminiscence  and 
put  curiosity  on  tiptoe.  It  had  been  the  Colonel's 
wish  that,  after  all  had  been  said  over  his  remains 
that  grief  could  suggest  or  friendship  devise,  his 
last  will  and  testament  should  be  opened  and  read 
in  the  presence  of  his  neighbours  before  they  had 
dispersed.  It  was  a  whim,  perhaps,  but  it  was  of 
a  piece  with  the  openness  and  candour  of  the  man. 

The  duty  of  reading  the  will  devolved  on  Judge 
Vardeman,  a  close  friend  of  the  family,  and  his 
sonorous  voice  rang  out  even  more  effectively  than 
had  the  soft  and  persuasive  tones  of  Rev.  Sampson 
White,  so  much  so  that  Mrs.  Betsey  Nicklin  con- 
tended as  long  as  she  lived  that  it  would  have  been 
better  and  more  helpful  in  every  way  if  the  Judge 
had  preached  the  sermon,  leaving  the  preacher  to 
read  the  legal  document.  Colonel  Flournoy  was 
very  rich,  and  it  was  known  beforehand  that  he 
intended  to  add  to  the  endowments  of  various  insti- 
tutions, and  to  leave  legacies  to  a  number  of  his 
friends,  but  the  bequest  which  gave  a  fillip  to  curi- 
osity and  left  a  large  field  in  which  gossip  and 
inquisitiveness  might  play  was  as  follows :  — 

"  And  remembering  with  constant  and  increas- 
ing affection  the  services  rendered  to  me  person- 
ally and  to  the  sacred  cause  in  which  the  Southern 

53 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

people  had  embarked  by  my  dear  friend,  Lawrence 
McCarthy,  who,  from  May  i,  1862,  to  April  30, 
1865,  acted  as  head  waiter  of  the  New  York  Hotel 
in  New  York  City,  I  do  hereby  will,  devise,  and 
bequeath  to  him,  his  heirs  and  assigns  forever,  the 
house  and  lot  known  as  the  Pearson  Place  and  the 
plantation  lying  contiguous  thereto,  the  said  lot  and 
contiguous  plantation  being  fully  described  in  the 
deeds  marked  F  and  G;  and  in  addition  to  this 
bequest  and  devisement  I  do  hereby  make  it  the 
duty  of  my  executors  hereinafter  named  to  pay 
into  the  hands  of  the  aforesaid  Lawrence  McCar- 
thy, or  his  surviving  heirs  if  he  have  any,  the  sum 
of  ten  thousand  ($10,000)  dollars  in  cash,  the  same 
to  be  paid  on  the  eve  of  the  Christmas  next  ensu- 
ing after  my  death.  And  I  hereby  make  it  the 
duty  of  my  son,  Francis  Flournoy,  to  seek  out  the 
aforesaid  Lawrence  McCarthy,  or  his  heirs  if  he  be 
dead,  and  I  lay  it  upon  him  as  a  solemn  charge  to 
be  diligent  and  zealous  in  all  ways  in  carrying  out 
the  terms  of  this  clause  of  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment ;  all  incurred  expenses  to  be  paid  equally  out 
of  each  share  of  my  estate  save  that  which  is  herein 
set  apart  for  the  benefit  and  behoof  of  the  said  Law- 
rence McCarthy,  his  heirs  and  assigns." 

Now,  assuredly,  here  was  matter  for  gossip  to 
busy  itself  about,  for  the  Pearson  Place  was 
marked  by  one  of  the  most  elaborate  and  best- 

54 


IN  THE  ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE 

preserved  specimens  of  colonial  architecture  to  be 
found  "  south  of  the  Jeems  River,"  as  the  saying 
is.  The  site  was  commanding,  and,  rising  two 
and  a  half  stories,  the  old  structure  seemed  to  take 
a  certain  grandeur  from  its  surroundings.  The 
plantation  attached  to  it  and  made  part  of  the 
bequest  comprised  not  less  than  four  hundred 
acres  of  the  richest  land  in  a  county  noted  for  the 
fertility  of  its  soil. 

And  this  historic  old  house  and  this  splendid 
plantation  were  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  total 
stranger  —  a  man  whom  Rockville  had  never 
heard  of,  and  a  Yankee  at  that;  not  only  a 
Yankee,  but  a  hotel  waiter! 

Mrs.  Betsey  Nicklin,  who  was  the  mouthpiece 
of  a  great  many  people  less  outspoken  than  she, 
could  make  neither  head  nor  tail  to  this  deviae- 
ment.  She  said  as  much  to  her  husband  when 
the  two  had  returned  home  from  the  funeral. 

"  I've  been  knowin'  Fountain  Flournoy  more'n 
forty  year,"  she  said,  "  and  if  anybody  had  'a'  up 
and  told  me  that  he'd  wind  up  his  business  wi' 
sech  doin's  as  that  I'd  'a'  felt  like  knockin*  'em 
down.  But  I'm  not  a  bit  surprised  —  not  a  bit. 
There  never  was  a  better  man,  I'll  say  that  much ; 
but  Fountain  was  a  man,  and  there  never  was  a 
man  that  didn't  have  a  screw  loose  some'rs.  Some 
are  too  lazy  to  show  it,  and  some  die  before  they 

55 


ON   THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

git  a  chance;  but  if  they  ain't  shiftless  and  live 
long  enough,  they'll  show  a  weak  spot." 

"  Some  on  'em  show  it  when  they  git  married," 
said  Mr.  Nicklin. 

"You'd  'a'  show'd  it  if  I'd  V  let  you,"  responded 
Mrs.  Betsey.  "  You  know  as  well  as  I  do,  Wesley, 
that  if  it  hadn't  'a'  been  for  me  you'd  'a'  married  old 
Moll  Coy,  and  what  would  you  'a'  looked  like  now? " 

"  Well,  I  ain't  so  mighty  certain,  Betsey,  that  I 
look  one  whit  better  than  Martin  Coy.  I  met  'im 
t'other  night  roamin'  about  in  the  moonlight,  and 
whilst  he  wouldn't  speak  when  spoken  to,  I  don't 
know  but  what  he  looked  every  bit  and  grain  as 
good  as  arry  other  man  in  the  county.  He  had 
on  his  Sunday  duds,  for  one  thing." 

"You  didn't  tell  me  about  it,  Wesley,"  Mrs. 
Nicklin  declared  with  some  asperity. 

"  You  didn't  ax  me  to,"  her  spouse  responded. 

She  gave  him  what  she  called  a  "look";  it  was 
one  of  her  methods  of  crushing  her  opponents. 
Mr.  Nicklin  didn't  wither  as  he  might  have  been 
expected  to  do.  One  reason  was  that  he  was  a 
man  past  middle  age ;  another  reason  was  that  he 
was  at  that  moment  engaged  in  grinding  some  dry 
tobacco  cuttings  between  the  hard  palms  of  his 
strong  hands  to  fit  them  for  service  in  his  pipe. 

"  Where  did  you  see  him,  Wesley  ? "  Mrs.  Nick- 
lin  inquired.  Her  tone  was  imperative,  as  it 

5* 


IN  THE  ORDER  OF   PROVIDENCE 

always  was  when  she  desired  to  attract  her  hus- 
band's undivided  attention. 

"See  who,  Betsey?  Oh  —  Martin  Coy;  why,  I 
seed  'im  comin'  out'n  Colonel  Flournoy's  front 
gate.  'Twas  the  night  the  Colonel  died." 

"You  reckon  he  killed  him?  He's  none  too 
good  to  do  it,"  declared  Mrs.  Nicklin. 

Her  husband  turned  upon  her  with  amazement 
in  his  face. 

"  Why,  Betsey !  "  he  declared,  "  you'll  let  your 
tongue  run  on  till  you  have  a  lie-bill  took  out  agin' 
you ;  and  when  that's  done,  don't  you  run  to  me 
for  to  bail  you  out.  No ;  I'll  let  the  law  take  its 
course." 

"  Tipsy,  topsy,  toddle ;  dolly  broke  its  noddle !  " 
cried  Mrs.  Nicklin,  sarcastically.  "When  did  I 
ever  run  to  you  to  get  me  out  of  trouble  ? " 

"Why,  when  you  sent  me  word  that  you 
had  set  your  cap  for  me,"  replied  Mr.  Nicklin, 
promptly. 

Whereupon  his  wife  indulged  in  a  fit  of  hearty 
laughter,  remarking,  "  If  there  ever  was  a  goose 
in  this  world,  I  got  him  when  I  got  you." 

"You've  tried  hard  to  be  the  gander,  Betsey," 
said  Mr.  Nicklin,  as  he  lit  his  pipe  and  began  to 
smoke  with  an  air  of  supreme  contentment. 

This  couple  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a  chronic 
quarrel  from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  and  yet  they 

57 


ON  THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

had  never  had  a  serious  misunderstanding,  and 
were  happy  in  each  other's  company. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Nicklin,  trying  hard  to  snap 
thumb  and  finger,  "I  wouldn't  give  that  for  old 
Martin  Coy  and  all  the  lie-bills  he  could  fetch  in 
again'  me  betwixt  Christmas  and  Christmas;  but 
I'd  give  a  purty  to  know  how  come  Fountain 
Flournoy  to  have  sech  a  mortal  weakness  for  a 
Yankee,  and  a  hotel  waiter  at  that.  That's  what 
pesters  me." 

To  tell  the  truth,  it  pestered  a  good  many  people 
in  Middle  Georgia  when  they  heard  of  it ;  but  when 
young  Francis  Flournoy,  carrying  out  the  duty  laid 
upon  him  by  his  father's  will,  had  found  Lawrence 
McCarthy  in  Brooklyn,  where  he  was  living  with 
his  daughter  Nora  in  very  modest  circumstances, 
and  had  installed  this  interesting  family  in  their 
new  home,  the  public  mind  of  the  neighbourhood 
was  no  longer  pestered  about  it 

The  first  to  call  was  Judge  Vardeman. 

The  Judge's  driver  said  afterward  that "  Marse 
Walton  seed  de  yuther  man  walkin'  'bout  un'  de 
trees  an'  he  went  whar  he  wuz,  an'  den  he  fotch  a 
yell,  an'  dey  bofe  grab  one  anudder  'roun'  de  neck, 
an'  dar  dey  had  it.  Right  at  fust  I  'low'd  dey  wuz 
fightin',  an'  I  come  mighty  nigh  hollerin'  fer  some- 
body ter  run  an'  part  um;  but  I  soon  seed  dey 
was  howdyin'.  An'  sech  howdyin' !  Man>  suh! 

58 


IN  THE  ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE 

'twuz  ez  de  meetin'  er  two  sisters  arter  so  long  a 
time." 

And,  in  fact,  the  two  men  had  been  comrades 
and  messmates  in  the  earliest  campaigns  in  the 
West.  In  following  Forrest  out  of  Fort  Donelson 
on  the  night  of  February  15,  1862,  they  became 
separated,  and  never  met  again  until  Judge  Varde- 
man,  moved  more  by  curiosity  than  by  neighbourly 
feelings,  called  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  new 
owner  of  the  Pearson  Place. 

"Why,  Larry  !"  he  cried,  still  keeping  his  hand 
on  his  old  comrade's  shoulder,  "it's  all  over  the 
county  that  you're  a  hotel  waiter,  and  I  came  over 
to  see  how  a  waiter  would  look  as  a  landed  pro- 
prietor. My  dear  friend,  if  you  only  knew  how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you  after  all  these  years !  " 

"There's  no  need  to  say  it,  Walton;  I  judge 
your  feelings  by  my  own.  For  my  part,  I  can 
truly  say  that  God  is  merciful  as  well  as  bountiful. 
Yonder  is  Nora,  my  little  girl ;  she'll  be  glad  to  see 
her  father's  old  friend." 

He  called,  and  Nora  came  running ;  and,  whether 
he  was  influenced  by  his  surroundings  or  whether 
his  eyes  told  him  the  simple  truth,  Judge  Varde- 
man  thought  he  never  had  seen  as  charming  a  girl 
as  Nora  McCarthy.  Her  hair  was  glossy  black, 
ner  eyes  were  sjrey  or  blue,  as  the  light  fell  on 
them,  and  the  rose  tints  flowed  faintly  or  radiantly 

59 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

in  response  to  her  emotions.  The  play  of  her 
features  was  wonderful  to  see,  and  each  movement 
of  her  body,  every  gesture  of  her  white  hands, 
rhymed  to  the  artless  grace  and  innocence  of 
youth.  In  repose  her  countenance  gave  out  those 
inscrutable,  indescribable  suggestions  of  old  songs 
and  old  romances  that  are  to  be  found  in  the  ideal 
portraits  painted  by  the  great  masters.  Having  a 
mind  sensitive  to  impressions  of  this  sort,  the  grave 
Judge  caught  himself  sighing  even  as  he  smiled. 
He  felt  irresistibly  drawn  to  this  beautiful  girl, 
who,  although  she  had  reached  the  years  of  young 
womanhood,  was  still  a  girl,  in  whom  a  dash  of 
waywardness  seemed  nothing  more  than  sprightli- 
ness.  Happy  are  those  whose  light  faults  flutter 
toward  beauty  and  graciousness ! 

Well,  Captain  Lawrence  McCarthy  being  duly 
installed  in  his  possessions,  it  was  not  long  before 
all  his  neighbours  had  an  inkling  of  his  somewhat 
romantic  career,  of  the  risks  he  had  run,  and  the 
devotion  he  had  shown  to  the  Confederate  cause. 
He  thoroughly  enjoyed  his  new  life,  and  he  began 
at  once  to  apply  to  the  management  of  his  planta- 
tion the  methodical  skill  and  unerring  judgment 
which  enabled  him  to  manipulate  men  and  create 
opportunities  as  the  manager  of  the  secret  service 
of  the  Confederacy  in  New  York.  In  short,  he 
was  conspicuously  successful  as  a  farmer  because 

60 


IN  THE   ORDER   OF   PROVIDENCE 

he  knew  how  to  manage  men,  because  he  had  the 
art  of  inspiring  them  with  his  own  tireless  energy. 

As  he  was  a  man  who  loved  company  and  knew 
how  to  entertain  his  guests,  his  home  soon  became 
a  social  centre.  Whatever  training  as  a  hostess 
his  daughter  Nora  lacked  was  more  than  compen- 
sated for  by  her  sweetness  and  simplicity.  She 
knew  how  to  be  natural,  and  it  is  a  great  gift  in 
man  or  woman.  She  had  a  fine  voice,  and  per- 
formed on  the  harp.  Hardly  an  evening  passed 
that  Judge  Vardeman  was  not  to  be  found  at  the 
Pearson  Place,  and  his  example  was  soon  followed 
by  the  choicer  spirits  of  the  village. 

At  least  once,  and  sometimes  twice,  a  week  all 
the  men  and  women,  as  well  as  the  boys  and  girls, 
who  were  socially  inclined,  met  at  the  Pearson 
Place,  and  at  such  times  the  youngsters  usually 
had  a  frolic.  So  that  it  happened  that  in  all  that 
region  Captain  McCarthy's  house  was  the  only  one 
in  which  old-fashioned  hospitality  was  revived  and 
put  to  its  finer  uses.  The  young  people  had  the 
spacious  parlour  and  the  wide  dining  room  in  which 
to  dance  and  play  the  innocent  games  that  lead  to 
love-making,  while  their  elders  had  the  library,  or, 
in  fine  weather,  the  wide  veranda.  For  amuse- 
ment there  was  whist  or  cribbage,  but  those  who 
once  got  a  taste  of  Captain  McCarthy's  reminis- 
cences, or  heard  one  of  Judge  Vardeman's  stories, 

61 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

preferred  to  sit  where  these  two  were  conversing, 
or  to  linger  within  earshot. 

On  one  occasion  Nora  touched  young  Flournoy's 
coat  sleeve,  remarking,  "  Do  you  want  to  hear 
something  about  your  father  ? "  All  the  young 
people  followed  the  two,  and  listened  to  the  story 
that  has  already  been  told,  —  the  story  of  "  Why 
the  Confederacy  Failed." 

"  I  still  have  the  gold  piece  he  sent  me,"  said 
Nora,  proudly,  shaking  the  bracelet  under  Flour- 
noy's eyes.  The  young  man  thought  that  the  arm 
on  which  the  bracelet  glistened  was  the  fairest  and 
most  beautiful  to  be  found  in  the  world. 

"  I  think  you  left  out  one  of  the  portents,"  re- 
marked Judge  Vardeman. 

"  For  instance  ? "  inquired  the  Captain. 

"  Fort  Donelson,"  said  the  Judge.  "  We  were 
both  there." 

"  Upon  my  word,  you  are  correct,  Walton. 
Never  before  did  an  army,  measurably  victori- 
ous, surrender  so  tamely.  You  remember  the 
rage  of  Forrest  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  replied  Judge  Vardeman,  laughing.  "A 
part  of  it  fell  on  me.  I  had  been  his  courier  dur- 
ing the  day,  and  he  came  roaring  to  his  headquar- 
ters like  a  wounded  lion.  He  cried  out  to  those 
who  could  hear  him  :  '  Do  you,  and  you,  and  you  ' 
—  calling  their  names  — '  go  and  wake  up  every 

62 


IN  THE  ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE 

man  in  my  command  !  And  you,  too,  sir,'  he  yelled 
at  me ;  '  and  if  you  ain't  quick  about  it  I'll  break 
me  a  hickory,  and  frail  the  life  out  of  you ! '  But 
there  was  no  need  to  hurry.  The  enemy  was 
camping  out  of  hearing,  expecting  to  be  attacked. 
Forrest's  whole  command,  and  many  others  who 
had  no  stomach  for  prison  life,  marched  out  of  the 
fort,  and  not  a  Federal  was  to  be  seen." 

"  I  heard  of  the  proposed  surrender  about  day- 
light," said  Captain  McCarthy,  "and  with  half  a 
dozen  others  made  my  way  out.  I  was  not  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  away  when  I  heard  Buckner's 
bugler  sounding  a  truce.  Yes,  my  friend,  you  are 
right.  Fort  Donelson  belongs  high  up  in  the  list 
of  portents.  But  for  that  surrender,  Grant  would 
never  have  been  heard  of  again.  His  enemies  at 
Washington  were  preparing  to  make  the  final  move 
that  would  have  swept  him  into  obscurity.  But 
when  Providence  arranges  a  programme,  it  is  not 
for  mortals  to  disturb  it." 

"  That  is  so  true,"  remarked  Judge  Vardeman, 
gravely,  "  that  mere  words  fall  short  of  describing 
it." 

"Yes,"  responded  McCarthy.  "It  is  true  of 
the  most  trivial  events,  but  it  is  only  when  the 
issues  are  large  that  we  can  put  our  fingers  on  the 
connecting  links  in  this  vast  chain."  He  paused 
and  looked  forth  across  the  fields  of  night  in 

63 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

which  the  stars  were  blooming,  sighed,  and  con 
tinued,  — 

"  I  remember  the  occasion  when  but  for  a  most 
trifling  accident  —  we  call  such  things  accidents, 
though  we  have  no  right  to  —  a  life  of  inestimable 
value  to  the  whole  country  might  have  been 
saved." 

Captain  McCarthy  arose  from  his  chair,  walked 
to  the  farther  end  of  the  veranda,  and  then  came 
slowly  back,  his  head  bent  and  his  hands  behind 
him.  He  did  not  resume  his  seat,  but  moved 
•about  in  a  small  space  in  front  of  the  older  men 
in  the  company,  while  the  young  people  were 
grouped  in  the  door  of  the  wide  hallway,  or  sat 
upon  the  low  railing  that  ran  around  the  veranda. 

"You  never  met  John  Omahundro?"  remarked 
the  Captain  to  Judge  Vardeman. 

"I  never  did,  but  I  heard  General  Dabney 
Maury  giving  Forrest  an  account  of  him.  For- 
rest's comment  was  that  if  he  thought  he  could 
get  Omahundro,  he'd  take  a  week  off  and  go  after 
him." 

"Well,  John  Omahundro  has  gone  on  the  stage 
since  the  war,  and  now  calls  himself  'Texas 
Jack,'  "  said  Captain  McCarthy,  whereat  there  was 
considerable  excitement  among  the  young  folks, 
for  some  of  them  had  seen  "Texas  Jack"  and 
"Buffalo  Bill"  when  they  performed  in  their 

64 


IN  THE  ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE 

lurid  melodrama  of  the  Wild  West  in  Macon. 
Some  of  the  young  ladies,  especially,  remembered 
"  Texas  Jack "  as  perhaps  the  handsomest  and 
most  dashing  hero  they  had  ever  seen  on  the 
stage.  They  remembered,  too,  that  he  had  long 
black  hair  that  fell  in  curls  about  his  shoulders, 
and  the  loveliest  mustache  possible  to  man ;  and 
he  was  tall  —  as  tall  as  a  grenadier. 

Captain  McCarthy  listened  to  this  enumeration 
of  Omahundro's  attractions  with  a  smile,  and  then 
continued :  — 

"Well,  he  was  a  very  handsome  lad  when  I 
knew  him.  But  his  hair  was  too  short  to  curl, 
and  he  had  no  mustache.  In  fact,  the  first  time 
I  saw  him  he  was  about  as  droll  a  specimen  of 
the  country  cracker  as  I  ever  laid  eyes  on.  He 
wore  brogans  of  undressed  leather,  his  copperas- 
colored  breeches  were  short  enough  to  show  his 
woollen  socks,  and,  as  the  day  was  warm,  he  carried 
his  jeans  coat  on  his  arm,  which  enabled  all  who 
glanced  at  the  droll  figure  to  see  that  he  had  but 
one  suspender,  and  that  made  of  twine.  His  wool 
hat  had  seen  service  so  long  that  it  was  as  limber 
as  a  dish-rag.  He  was  driving  a  rugged-looking 
mule  to  a  small  cart  which  contained  fresh  vege- 
tables, a  basket  of  eggs,  and  a  few  chickens.  He 
was  chewing  a  straw,  and  his  face  wore  a  most 
woebegone  expression.  He  walked  with  a  slight 

65 


ON  THE   WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

limp,  and  this  circumstance,  simple  as  it  was,  pre- 
served the  figure  from  exaggeration.  You  knew 
at  once  that  here  was  a  droll  specimen  of  the  poor 
white  common  to  all  parts  of  our  common  country, 
as  familiar  to  Maryland,  Virginia,  and  Pennsyl- 
vania as  it  is  to  Georgia  and  Florida,  or  to  Maine 
or  Vermont." 

"You  saw  him,  then,"  suggested  Judge  Varde- 
man,  "in  his  native  surroundings  before  circum- 
stances had  combined  to  develop  —  " 

"  No,"  replied  Captain  McCarthy ;  "  my  first 
glimpse  of  him  was  in  Washington  City,  within 
ten  minutes'  walk  of  the  White  House." 

"  Oh !  I  remember  the  very  day !  "  cried  Nora. 

"  When  my  duty  carried  me  North  on  an  errand 
that  I  knew  would  detain  me  there  for  many 
weary  months,  I  carried  my  family  with  me,  —  my 
wife  and  daughter,  —  and  for  the  time  being  I 
made  my  headquarters  in  Washington,  renting  a 
very  modest  house  there  until  such  moment  as 
the  plans  of  my  superiors  could  be  developed. 
Well,"  the  Captain  went  on,  laughing,  "they  never 
were  developed,  and  I  had  to  take  matters  into 
my  own  hands  and  organise  a  sort  of  secret  ser- 
vice of  my  own,  which  I  never  could  have  done 
but  for  Omahundro. 

"  He  offered  his  wares  before  many  doors,  but 
when  he  saw  me  he  stopped  his  cart  close  to  the 

66 


IN   THE   ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE 

pavement,  searched  in  it  till  he  found  three 
chickens  tied  together  by  the  feet.  These  he 
brought  to  the  door,  remarking :  '  I  reckon  you're 
a  new  man  in  these  parts.  I've  been  tradin'  an' 
traffickin'  'roun'  here  fer  some  time,  but  I  ain't 
never  saw/##  before.  What  mought  your  name 
be  ?'  He  looked  at  me  and  grinned  like  an  imbe- 
cile. 

" '  My  name  might  be  almost  anything,  but  it 
happens  to  be  McCarthy,'  I  replied. 

" '  You're  right  certain  it  ain't  McKavitt,  ner 
McKinsie,  ner  no  other  kind  of  Mac  ? '  he  insisted ; 
'  bekase  I  seen  a  lady  down  the  road  a  piece,  an' 
she  says,  says  she,  "  Jacky,"  say  she,  "  ef  you  see 
Cap'n  Larry  McCarthy,  jest  up  an'  leave  three  of 
your  best  chickens  at  his  door."  '  As  he  said  this 
the  cracker  nudged  me  with  his  thumb,  made  a 
queer  noise  with  his  mouth,  and  then  fell  into  a  fit 
of  laughter. 

"  '  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ? '  I  asked. 

"  '  Well,  I  don't  mean  no  harm ;  not  a  bit  in  the 
world,'  he  replied.  '  I  says  to  the  lady,  says  I, 
"  Is  the  Cap'n  a  married  man  ? "  an'  she  says,  "  I 
dunner  whe'r  he  is  or  no,  an'  I  don't  keer;  you 
jest  give  'im  the  chickens."  She  did  that-a-way ! 
She  said  them  very  words.  I  got  a  gal  myself,' 
he  remarked  by  way  of  reassuring  me,  '  an'  she's 
a  thumper.'  He  laughed  in  the  silliest  manner. 

67 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  Now  I  had,  when  first  taking  the  cottage,  left 
my  address  ^at  a  country  shanty  some  miles  out  of 
the  city,  in  accordance  with  instructions  received 
at  Richmond;  but  the  gift  of  the  chickens  con- 
veyed no  information  to  me ;  it  seemed  more  like 
a  trap  laid  for  me.  But  the  cracker  left  the  fowls, 
and  as  he  went  toward  his  wagon  he  paused  long 
enough  to  say :  '  I  want  you  to  save  the  biggest 
string,  Cap.  I'll  come  back  arter  it  some  day.' 

"  Now,  this  was  a  cue.  The  big  string  turned 
out  to  be  about  a  yard  and  a  half  of  thrums,  — 
small  threads  loosely  twisted  together,  —  and  in 
this  piece  of  thrums  was  wrapped  a  strip  of  tissue 
paper  containing  a  message  from  one  of  General 
Stuart's  couriers,  an  old  friend  of  mine,  saying 
that  no  satisfactory  instructions  could  be  got  from 
Richmond,  and  advising  me  to  act  as  I  thought 
best.  The  bearer  of  the  despatch,  the  writer  said, 
was  John  Omahundro,  the  brightest,  bravest,  and 
most  trustworthy  scout  in  the  army.  The  state- 
ment made  me  laugh.  I  no  more  believed  that 
the  person  who  delivered  me  the  message  was 
John  Omahundro,  of  whom  I  had  heard  a  great 
deal,  than  I  believed  that  I,  myself,  was  Secretary 
Stanton." 

"I  never  have  believed  it,"  remarked  Nora, 
emphatically. 

"  I  was  nothing  but  a  greenhorn  in  the  business 
61 


IN   THE   ORDER   OF   PROVIDENCE 

then,"  the  Captain  continued,  smiling  at  Nora, 
who  tossed  her  head  in  affected  anger,  "and  I 
thought  that  all  such  practices  smelt  of  the  cheap 
novel  and  melodrama.  I  had  not  changed  my 
own  name,  and  never  did,  and  I  thought  at  that 
time  that  my  contempt  for  all  disguises  and  under- 
hand methods  would  never  permit  me  to  employ 
them;  but  when  I  had  seen  one  or  two  young 
fellows,  gallant  but  foolhardy,  snatched  out  of  my 
hands,  as  you  may  say,  and  sacrificed  to  Mr.  Stan- 
ton's  implacable  temper,  I  soon  lost  my  contempt 
for  measures  intended  to  insure  my  safety." 

"That  fellow  Stanton  was  a  grand  rascal,"  re- 
marked one  of  the  Captain's  audience. 

"  Oh,  no !  no !  no  ! "  cried  Captain  McCarthy, 
deprecatingly.  "  You  never  were  more  mistaken 
in  your  life.  I  despised  him  heartily  for  many 
a  long  day,  but  he  was  honest  and  true.  He  was 
simply  implacable ;  he  spent  and  was  spent  in  per- 
forming his  duties;  he  was  restless  and  violent, 
riding  over  everything  and  everybody  that  stood 
in  his  way.  He  knew  neither  friends  nor  foes 
when  it  came  to  his  duties,  and  in  like  circum- 
stances he  would  have  hanged  or  imprisoned  his 
dearest  friend  as  promptly  as  he  immured  an 
anonymous  spy. 

"  Well,  the  day  after  I  had  received  the  message 
from  my  friend  in  Virginia  I  became  aware  of  the 

69 


ON  THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

fact  that  two  men  were  following  me.  How  long 
they  had  been  engaged  in  this  business  before  I 
discovered  it  it  was  impossible  to  say.  At  first 
I  simply  suspected  it,  and  then  I  made  assurance 
doubly  sure  by  walking  aimlessly  about.  But  no 
matter  where  I  went  I  found  them  not  far  away. 
They  made  no  effort  to  intrude  themselves  upon 
me;  they  were  not  obnoxious,  as  you  may  say. 
They  followed  me  at  their  ease  and  seemed  to 
be  in  high  good  humour.  Sometimes  they  would 
pause,  as  if  trying  to  settle  some  disputed  point, 
or  one  would  seem  to  tell  a  good  story  at  which 
both  laughed  heartily.  Finally,  having  walked 
around  and  about  for  an  hour,  I  determined  to 
take  a  street  car  and  go  home. 

"I  had  been  walking  in  the  direction  of  the 
Capitol,  but  the  car  was  moving  in  the  direction 
of  the  White  House.  The  men  who  were  follow- 
ing me  waited  patiently  for  the  car,  and  then,  as 
I  expected  they  would,  followed  my  example,  and 
seated  themselves  opposite  me.  One  was  a  young 
man  of  very  frail  appearance.  His  face  was  some- 
what emaciated,  and  his  eyes  were  sunken.  His 
hair  was  a  dirty  yellow.  His  companion  presented 
a  striking  contrast.  His  face  was  full  and  rosy,  his 
hair  glossy  black,  and  his  eyes  brilliant  with  health 
and  strength.  He  was  six  feet  high,  but  seemed 
to  be  shorter  by  reason  of  his  perfect  proportions. 

70 


"  I  watched  them  narrowly,  but  they  never  once 
looked  directly  at  me.  I  was  not  angry,  but  I  was 
irritated.  I  knew  my  position,  and  it  was  by  no 
means  pleasant  to  be  followed  about  by  strangers. 
They  soon  began  to  converse,  and  I  felt  that  every 
word  they  said  was  directed  at  me. 

"  The  yellow-haired  man  rolled  his  catlike  eyes 
as  he  talked,  and  sometimes  held  them  closed  for 
a  dozen  seconds  together,  giving  a  terrible  emphasis 
to  his  words. 

" '  You  see,  it's  this  way,'  he  said,  speaking  in  a 
guarded,  confidential  tone ;  '  we  know  that  a  mes- 
sage came  from  the  Rebels  yesterday.  We  caught 
one  of  the  messengers,  but  we  didn't  catch  the 
other;  we  know  that  it  had  to  do  with  three 
chickens ;  and  we  know  it  was  delivered ;  but 
how  ?  I  wouldn't  give  a  dime  for  the  message 
itself,  but  I'd  give  a  thousand  dollars  to  know  who 
brought  it,  and  I'm  going  to  find  out.' 

" '  I  reckon  we  won't  have  much  trouble  about 
that,'  replied  the  other,  lightly. 

"They  kept  up  this  sort  of  conversation  for 
several  minutes,  and  I  assure  you  I  was  surprised 
at  my  self-control.  In  fact,  I  had  no  need  to 
exercise  any.  I  felt  as  placid  and  as  compla- 
cent as  if  I  had  been  sitting  at  home  listening  to 
Nora  playing  jigs  and  reels  on  the  mouth  harp. 
I  seemed  to  be  taken  completely  out  of  myself. 


ON   THE   WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

You'll  hardly  believe  it,  but  the  situation  seemed 
to  have  a  humorous  aspect,  and  I  laughed  as  I 
left  the  car. 

"  I  walked  straight  home,  closed  the  door  after 
me,  and  called  Nora.  '  Nora,  darling,'  says  I, 
'two  men  will  knock  at  the  door  presently.  Show 
them  into  the  parlour,  and  ask  them  to  have  seats ; 
then  go  into  the  kitchen  and  stay  with  mother. 
Should  you  hear  any  unusual  noise  pay  no  atten- 
tion to  it.'  I  made  haste  to  move  every  chair  from 
the  parlour  (we  had  few),  leaving  only  a  small  sofa. 
This  I  placed  opposite  the  door. 

"Well,  sure  enough,  there  soon  came  a  knock 
on  the  door.  I  went  into  my  bedroom,  secured 
my  navy  revolvers,  —  a  very  fine  pair,  by  the  way, 
—  and  as  soon  as  Nora  came  back  and  described 
the  men  I  motioned  for  her  to  go  to  the  kitchen." 

"I  sat  in  there,"  said  Nora,  laughing,  "with  my 
fingers  in  my  ears  for  fully  half  an  hour." 

"I  knew,"  Captain  McCarthy  continued,  "that 
a  desperate  situation  needed  a  desperate  remedy, 
so  I  walked  to  the  parlour  door,  covered  the  two 
men,  and  said :  — 

"  '  Gentlemen,  your  little  game  of  sneak-and-tag 
is  played  out.  The  first  one  that  raises  his  hand 
or  moves  from  his  position  will  be  the  first  to  die.' 

"To  my  surprise,  they  displayed  no  alarm; 
they  showed  no  signs  of  apprehension.  The 

73 

. 


IN   THE   ORDER   OF   PROVIDENCE 

reason  was,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  that  the 
rosy  youth  was  John  Omahundro,  while  the  other 
was  Frank  Tidwell,  the  quaintest  wag  I  ever 
saw. 

"  You  may  be  very  sure  I  didn't  take  these  gen- 
tlemen at  their  word  until  Omahundro  had  re- 
hearsed the  scene  with  the  chickens  almost  word 
for  word.  This  I  had  to  depend  on,  for  the  rosy 
youngster  before  me  bore  not  the  slightest  resem- 
blance to  the  cracker  who  brought  me  the  chickens. 

'"Why  should  you  play  a  practical  joke  on 
me  ? '  I  asked. 

" '  Well,'  replied  Tidwell,  '  you  had  to  be  broke 
in,  you  know.  I  didn't  know  whether  you  was  a 
stump-sucker  or  a  thoroughbred.  We  can't  take 
no  chances  here.  If  you'd  a-flickered  on  that  car 
you'd  never  laid  eyes  on  us  any  more.'  Where- 
upon, after  searching  himself,  he  produced  an 
order  on  a  Halifax  bank  for  five  hundred  dollars 
in  gold.  This,  as  a  guarantee  of  good  faith,  was 
appreciated." 

"  You  were  talking  a  while  ago  of  a  trivial  acci- 
dent or  incident  that  turned  out  to  have  important 
relations  to  a  larger  event,"  suggested  Judge  Var- 
deman,  as  the  speaker  paused. 

"  Yes,  I  was  coming  to  that,"  responded  Cap- 
tain McCarthy ;  "  I  am  simply  trying  to  recall  the 
impressions  and  details  of  a  history-disturbing 

73 


ON  THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

event.  However,  these  impressions  are  merely 
personal. 

"  You  have  all  heard  of  that  unfortunate  young 
man,  John  Wilkes  Booth.  Well,  wherever  there 
was  a  spark  of  sympathy  for  the  South,  there  this 
young  man  was  to  be  found.  Omahundro  knew 
him  well,  and  it  was  natural  that  I  should  fall  in 
with  him.  He  was  a  very  attractive  man  in  every 
way.  He  had  in  him  all  the  elements  of  genius, 
but  seemed  powerless  to  focus  them. 

"  To  say  that  this  young  man  was  mad  would  be 
to  dispose  of  the  problem  he  presents  in  a  very  un- 
satisfactory way.  He  was  as  mad  as  Hamlet  was ; 
no  more,  no  less.  In  all  his  views  and  beliefs, 
in  his  designs  and  his  hopes,  he  was  as  much  a 
creature  of  fiction  as  any  you  find  in  books.  He 
was  so  infected  and  unbalanced  by  his  profession 
—  he  was  an  actor  —  that  the  world  seemed  to  him 
to  be  a  stage  on  which  men  and  women  were  act- 
ing, not  living,  their  parts.  There  was  nothing 
real  to  him  but  that  which  is  most  unreal,  the  the- 
atrical and  the  romantic.  He  had  a  great  variety 
of  charming  qualities,  and  his  mind  would  have 
been  brilliant  but  for  the  characteristics  which 
warped  it. 

"  I  soon  discovered  that  this  younj  man  of  un- 
balanced judgment  and  unbridled  tongue  was  a 
person  to  be  avoided  by  those  who  had  work  to  do. 

74 


IN  THE  ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE 

Omahundro  had  already  made  the  same  discovery 
for  himself,  and  he  predicted  that  Booth  would 
commit  some  act  that  would  drag  the  innocent  to 
death.  For  my  part,  I  went  at  once  to  Canada, 
then  returned  to  New  York,  and  had  very  few 
opportunities  after  that  of  seeing  this  unfortunate 
young  man. 

"  But  I  was  in  Washington  on  the  eleventh  of 
April,  1865,  three  days  after  the  surrender  of  Lee, 
and  though  I  was  in  no  enviable  frame  of  mind,  I 
had  the  greatest  confidence  in  the  wisdom,  justice, 
and  humanity  of  President  Lincoln.  I  felt,  as  did 
all  who  knew  him,  that  he  would  do  the  right 
thing,  in  the  right  way,  at  the  right  time.  Oma- 
hundro, I  remember,  had  somewhat  gloomier  fore- 
bodings. He  had  a  real  love  for  the  President, 
who  knew  the  lad  only  as  a  country  cracker,  and 
relished  his  drolleries,  which,  in  the  main,  con- 
sisted of  narratives  and  anecdotes  after  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's own  heart.  In  addition  to  these  drolleries, 
Omahundro  had  a  pretty  good  head  for  politics,  as 
all  our  Southern  young  men  have,  and  he  thought 
that  Mr.  Lincoln  would  be  carried  away  by  the  rad- 
ical wing  of  his  party,  which  Stanton,  assisted  by 
Morton  and  Stevens,  had  already  nursed  into  life. 

"  Now  I  had  some  knowledge  of  men,  and  it 
struck  me  that  Mr.  Lincoln's  excessive  patience 
and  forbearance  were  really  the  intrenchments 

75 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

behind  which  his  purposes  lay.  I  thought,  I  sayt 
that  while  he  seemed  to  be  deferring  to  the  judg- 
ment of  others,  he  was  engaged  all  the  time  in 
carrying  out  his  own  firm  resolutions  and  unalter- 
able plans  as  fast  as  events  would  justify  them." 

"That  is  the  simple  truth,"  exclaimed  Judge 
Vardeman. 

"  That  is  the  way  it  struck  me,"  Captain  Mc- 
Carthy went  on,  "  and  I  really  felt  better  after  the 
surrender  than  for  some  time  previously.  For  one 
thing,  the  suspense  was  ended ;  the  inevitable  had 
come  to  pass.  Still,  I  was  gloomy  enough. 

"Well,  I  had  arrived  in  Washington  on  Tues- 
day. The  next  Friday  was  Good  Friday.,  As  I 
was  coming  from  morning  devotions  I  met  Oma- 
hundro,  who  had  been  waiting  for  me.  He  was 
nervous  and  excited. 

"Til  tell  you  what,'  he  declared,  drawing  me 
aside,  'we  are  going  to  have  trouble,  sure;  that 
fellow  Booth  is  getting  ready  to  do  something 
desperate.  I  tell  you  he's  crazy.  I've  been  talk- 
ing to  him,  and  he's  wild  on  the  subject  of  ridding 
the  country  of  tyrants  and  oppressors.' 

" '  Pooh ! '  said  I, '  such  talk  comes  natural  to  him.' 

"As  it  happened,  we  had  not  gone  far  before 
we  met  the  unfortunate  young  man.  He  paused 
long  enough  to  pass  the  time  of  day,  and  quite  long 
enough  for  me  to  see  that  he  was  labouring  under 

76 


IN  THE  ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE 

a  great  mental  strain.     His  eyes  shone  with  an 
unnatural  lustre,  and  his  gestures  were  uncertain. 

" '  I'll  come  to  your  room  this  afternoon,  my 
friend,'  he  said  to  Omahundro,  'and  take  a  nap. 
For  the  work  that  is  before  me  I  need  the  prepa- 
ration of  slumber.  Aye,'  he  cried,  with  a  wild 
gesture,  *  and  others  will  sleep !  Envy  not  their 
dreams  —  envy  not  their  dreams,  my  friend ! ' 

"  '  I'll  meet  you  there,'  said  Omahundro. 

"  Now,  for  three  long  years  it  had  been  my  busi- 
ness to  foresee  possible  troubles  and  entanglements 
and  to  provide  against  them,  and  so  when  I  heard 
this  young  man's  remark  and  noted  his  excitement 
I  began  to  think  of  some  possible  difficulty  into 
which  we  might  be  dragged.  Therefore  I  said  to 
Omahundro,  — 

" '  Do  you  go  to  your  room,  lock  the  door,  and 
let  it  be  understood  that  you'll  not  be  back  until 
late  to-night.' 

"'Why,  Cap,  I  want  to  collar  that  fellow  and 
keep  him  there  till  he  gets  over  the  tantrums. 
It  won't  be  hard  to  straighten  him  out.  I  believe 
he's  got  the  jimmies.' 

"'Well,'  I  replied,  'you  can  only  restrain  him 
for  a  few  hours.  His  mania  will  renew  itself,  and 
if  he  sleeps  in  your  room  this  afternoon,  you  will 
be  identified  with  whatever  he  does,  especially  if 
he  commits  some  serious  crime.' 

77 


ON  THE  WING  OF   OCCASIONS 

" '  I  reckon  that's  about  so,'  said  Omahundro. 

"  Nevertheless,  and  in  spite  of  all  this,"  Captain 
McCarthy  continued,  speaking  gravely  and  with 
emphasis,  "John  Omahundro  did  go  back  to  his 
room,  and  permitted  this  unfortunate  young  man 
to  sleep  there  that  afternoon.  When  Booth  was 
sound  asleep,  Omahundro  slipped  out,  locked  the 
door,  and  carried  the  key  away  with  him.  When 
he  returned  he  found  that  the  young  man  had 
escaped  by  the  transom. 

"  In  the  course  of  a  few  hours  we  were  over- 
whelmed with  the  news  of  the  President's  assas- 
sination. It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  the  South,  but 
for  some  good  purpose  Providence  permitted  the 
event  to  occur.  Omahundro  was  deeply  affected 
by  it  He  felt  that  if  he  had  remained  in  the 
room  with  the  unfortunate  young  man,  and  had 
restrained  his  movements  until  the  next  day,  his 
bloodthirstiness  would  have  been  dissipated. 

"  But  in  my  opinion  no  earthly  power  could  have 
kept  the  assassin  in  that  room.  He  would  have 
found  some  means  of  escape.  The  awful  event, 
provided  for  in  the  mysterious  order  of  Providence, 
would  have  come  off  on  the  moment." 

Just  then  Joe-Bob  Griffin  drew  his  bow  across 
his  fiddle  in  the  dining  room,  and  the  young 
people  went  flocking  in,  laughing  and  chattering 
as  young  people  will. 

78 


THE   TROUBLES    OF   MARTIN 
COY 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN  COY 

WHEN  Mrs.  Nicklin,  on  the  day  of  Colonel 
Flournoy's  funeral,  was  informed  by  her  husband 
that  he  had  seen  and  spoken  to  Martin  Coy,  it  is 
no  wonder  that  she  was  astonished.  Nor  is  it  any 
wonder  that  she  was  ready  to  entertain  and  ex- 
press a  suspicion  that  the  man  was  responsible 
for  the  Colonel's  taking-off.  For  Martin  had 
innocently  and  unintentionally  made  for  himself 
the  most  grewsome  and  mysterious  reputation  that 
ever  attached  itself  to  the  name  and  character  of 
any  other  human  being  in  Middle  Georgia.  He 
was  a  living  ghost,  and  it  was  only  necessary  to 
mention  his  name  to  send  children  to  bed  silent 
and  shivering,  and  to  cause  negroes  to  remain 
indoors.  The  reason  there  was  no  Ku-Klux  or- 
ganization in  that  immediate  region  was  because  it 
was  only  necessary  for  one  white  man  to  say  to 
another  within  hearing  of  a  negro :  "  Have  you 
heard  the  news  ?  Martin  Coy  has  sent  word  that 
he'll  walk  about  to-night."  This  was  sufficient  to 
keep  every  negro  at  home  on  that  particular  night. 

On  one  occasion,  the  evening  before  a  state 
election,  the  negroes  gathered  together  in  large 

81 


numbers  not  far  from  town,  ready  to  march  in 
early  next  morning  and  mass  themselves  at  the 
polls.  A  happy  thought  on  the  part  of  one  of  the 
young  politicians  of  the  community  caused  this 
plan  to  miscarry.  He  dressed  himself  up  after  the 
style  of  the  "  Fantastics,"  as  modern  mummers 
were  called  in  the  South  just  prior  to  the  war, 
donned  a  hideous  mask  and  a  wig  and  beard  of 
long  white  hair,  and  went  to  the  camping  place 
of  the  negroes.  "  Who  dat  ?  "  cried  one  of  their 
pickets.  "  Martin  Coy  !  "  replied  the  young  man 
in  a  terrible  voice,  striking  a  match  as  though  he 
would  see  who  his  challenger  was.  But  the  negro 
gave  him  no  such  opportunity.  Uttering  one 
shriek  of  terror,  he  turned  and  fled,  pursued,  as  he 
supposed,  by  Martin  Coy.  The  shriek,  coupled 
with  the  name  of  Martin  Coy,  was  sufficient  to 
stampede  the  colored  citizens.  The  noise  made  by 
their  feet  as  they  ran  along  the  firm  clay  road 
could  be  heard  for  some  distance,  and  it  sounded 
like  the  wild  rush  of  a  drove  of  cattle. 

In  a  word,  Martin  Coy  was  a  ghost,  alive  and 
palpable,  and  yet  as  mysterious  and  unreal  as  the 
spooks  that  figure  in  fireside  tales.  No  man  in  all 
that  section  had  been  better  known  than  Martin 
Coy.  For  several  years  before  the  war  he  had 
made  himself  obnoxious  to  some  and  popular  with 
others  by  running  a  distillery  and  keeping  a  "  dog 

82 


THE  TROUBLES   OF   MARTIN   COY 

gery  "  just  outside  the  corporate  limits  of  the  town. 
This  still  and  doggery  soon  became  eyesores  to  the 
good  citizens  of  the  community.  They  attracted 
all  the  reckless  and  irresponsible  characters  in  the 
county.  Young  men  with  no  fondness  for  drink 
went  there  for  the  sake  of  the  gayety  of  the 
crowd,  and  were  soon  drawn  into  the  whirlpool 
of  intemperance.  On  Saturday  nights  especially 
the  orgies  that  took  place  at  Coy's  stillhouse  were 
something  to  be  remembered  by  those  who  lived 
within  earshot. 

Various  efforts  were  made  to  remove  this  blot 
upon  the  social  order,  but  Martin  Coy  had  taken 
sound  advice  so  far  as  the  legality  of  his  business 
was  concerned.  Moreover,  the  attacks  made  on 
him  in  the  courts  aroused  the  real  obstinacy  of  his 
nature,  and  when  the  citizens  clubbed  together 
and  raised  enough  money  to  buy  out  a  dozen  such 
distilleries,  he  laughed  at  their  offer.  They 
had  attacked  him  in  the  first  place ;  and  when  they 
went  at  him  with  fair  words,  they  found  him  with 
his  bristles  up,  as  the  saying  is. 

Now,  in  Georgia,  since  the  days  of  George 
Whitefield's  campaign  against  Satan,  one  of  the 
specialties  of  the  population  is  the  ease  and  cer- 
tainty with  which  it  turns  out  revivalist  preachers, 
one  for  each  generation  of  sinners.  Uncle  Jimmy 
Dannielly,  one  of  the  most  celebrated,  flourished 
83 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

in  the  thirties,  and  Uncle  Johnny  Knight  in  the 
fifties.  They  were  rough  and  uncouth  in  their 
ways,  it  may  be,  but  they  were  men  of  genius, 
gifted  with  a  power  to  stir  the  hearts  of  their 
fellows.  Many  strange  stories  are  told  of  the 
results  of  their  appeals  to  the  consciences  of  their 
hearers.  Camp-meeting,  when  a  series  of  services 
was  held  in  midsummer  in  the  deep  bosom  of  the 
green  wood,  was  the  special  harvest-time  of  these 
revivalists.  They  preached  day  and  night,  and 
some  very  astonishing  scenes  occurred  as  the 
result  of  their  ministrations. 

Martin  Coy  never  attended  a  camp-meeting,  nor 
any  other  religious  service,  but  it  was  while  one  of 
these  meetings  was  in  progress  not  far  away  that 
the  good  citizens  of  the  community  concluded  to 
make  him  the  object  of  special  attention  on  the 
part  of  the  preachers.  Some  of  the  young  men 
got  wind  of  the  plan,  and  made  haste  to  inform 
Martin  that  a  vigorous  attempt  would  be  made  to 
convert  him. 

"Well,"  said  Martin,  "I  reckon  I  need  some- 
thing of  that  kind  as  bad  as  the  next  one.  But 
they'll  not  pester  me." 

But  on  Saturday  night,  while  the  young  men 
who  favoured  Martin  Coy  with  their  presence  and 
their  patronage  were  in  the  midst  of  one  of  their 
revels,  two  or  three  revivalists,  accompanied  by  a 

84 


THE  TROUBLES   OF  MARTIN   COY 

dozen  or  more  of  the  most  substantial  citizens  of 
the  community,  suddenly  made  their  appearance. 
The  young  men  had  prepared  for  a  great  time. 
They  had  secured  the  services  of  Fiddling  Bill,  a 
one-legged  negro,  whose  lack  of  limb  and  knack 
as  a  shoemaker  had  secured  him  many  privileges, 
and  had  made  all  arrangements  for  what  is  called 
a  "stag-dance."  But  Fiddling  Bill,  perceiving 
this  grave  and  threatening  accession  to  the  crowd, 
slipped  his  fiddle  into  its  bag  and  was  slipping 
away.  A  word  from  Uncle  Johnny  Knight  de- 
tained him. 

"  Don't  go,  William,"  said  the  great  revivalist, 
his  face  beaming  with  smiles.  "  The  fiddle  is  a 
vile  thing  when  its  strings  are  tuned  to  sin;  but 
can't  you  tune  it  to  play  a  hymn,  William  ? " 

The  young  men  slipped  away  one  by  one,  but 
Fiddling  Bill  remained,  and  so  did  Martin  Coy, 
who  was  running  a  doubling  of  low  wines.  "  If 
you  git  dry,"  he  remarked  to  his  new  guests, 
"you'll  find  a  jug  by  the  water  bucket  there." 
With  that  he  went  on  attending  to  his  business, 
chunking  up  the  fire,  and  testing  the  strength  of 
the  run  which  was  slowly  dribbling  through  the 
coils  of  the  copper  pipe  into  a  cask,  or  half  barrel. 

"We  have  come,  Martin,"  said  Rev.  John 
Knight,  "to  have  a  little  friendly  talk  with  you 
about  your  soul." 


ON   THE   WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

"All  right,  neighbours  and  friends,"  responded 
Martin  Coy,  cheerfully,  "  fire  away." 

"  But  first  we'll  have  prayer,"  said  the  preacher ; 
and  they  all  knelt  except  Martin  Coy.  The  fact 
that  made  Uncle  Johnny  Knight's  prayers  more 
impressive  than  those  of  any  other  person  was 
their  conversational  tone.  He  addressed  his 
Maker  as  if  the  Great  Infinite  were  standing 
before  him. 

"  We  know,  Lord,  that  our  poor  friend,  Martin 
Coy,  has  a  good  heart  and  a  clear  understanding. 
If  we  know  that,  Heavenly  Father,  how  much 
better  do  You  know  it !  Oh,  touch  that  heart,  and 
make  that  understanding  clearer,  and  lift  our  poor 
friend  out  of  the  depths  of  his  misery.  He  doesn't 
know,  Lord,  how  deep  his  misery  is,  but  show  it 
to  him  ;  make  him  feel  it ;  brand  the  knowledge 
of  it  on  his  dead  conscience,  and  bring  that  con- 
science to  life,  all  quivering  with  the  despair  that 
leads  to  repentance." 

The  prayer  was  long  and  earnest,  and  grew 
more  vivid  toward  the  close ;  but  it  seemed  to 
have  no  sort  of  effect  on  Martin  Coy.  Then  a 
hymn  was  sung.  Acting  on  orders,  Fiddling  Bill, 
after  one  or  two  trials,  picked  up  the  tune  and 
carried  it  along  very  sweetly,  the  tones  of  the 
violin  striking  through  the  male  voices  with  singu- 
lar effectiveness. 

86 


THE   TROUBLES   OF   MARTIN   COY 

"  Purty  good,  Bill,"  remarked  Martin  Coy,  with 
a  grunt  of  satisfaction ;  "  I'll  give  you  a  big  drink 
for  that  when  the  company  goes." 

"  Thanky,  marster,"  said  Fiddling  Bill,  enthusi- 
astically. 

The  upshot  of  it  was  that  the  efforts  of  the 
revivalists  appeared  to  have  no  appreciable  effect 
on  Martin  Coy,  until  at  last  one  of  them  —  it  may 
have  been  Rev.  Caleb  Key  —  who,  when  all  other 
tactics  failed,  had  a  way  of  seizing  sinners  by 
the  scruff  of  the  neck,  metaphorically  speaking, 
and  shaking  them  over  the  bottomless  pit,  raised 
his  hand  and  said  solemnly  :  — 

"  Martin  Coy,  in  the  presence  of  your  God  and 
these  consecrated  brethren,  I  denounce  you  for 
sowing  the  seeds  of  crime  and  sin  in  this  commu- 
nity. Your  wicked  heart  is  harder  than  flint,  but 
it  will  be  broken.  The  day  will  come t  be  it  soon  or 
late,  when  you  will  hide  from  the  light  of  the  sun; 
when  you  will  slink  about  in  the  darkness ;  when 
you  will  be  a  dead  man  though  yet  alive  !  Mark 
my  word,  Martin  Coy !  the  God  of  the  widow  and 
orphan  will  take  vengeance  on  you !  " 

These  words  may  not  seem  very  impressive  in 
print,  but  charged  with  the  emphasis  of  a  sonorous 
and  living  voice,  and  rising  and  falling  with  the 
inflections  of  an  earnestness  as  strong  as  passion 
itself,  they  proved  more  effective  than  all  the 

87 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

prayers  and  preaching.  As  soon  as  the  words 
were  uttered,  Martin  Coy  turned  around  and  faced 
the  revivalists,  but  they  were  already  retiring.  He 
advanced  a  pace  or  two  and  raised  his  hand  as 
though  he  would  attract  their  attention,  but  their 
backs  were  turned  and  they  were  swallowed  by 
the  darkness. 

Then  Martin  Coy  turned  and  looked  at  Fiddling 
Bill.  "They  give  out  some  rough  texts,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"Dey  sho  does,"  said  Fiddling  Bill,  who  was 
staring  at  Martin  Coy  with  wide-open  eyes.  "  A 
little  mo'  an'  de  preacher  would  'a'  cussed  you 
out." 

"  I  wish  he  had  'a'  done  it  on  his  own  hook," 
suggested  Martin  Coy  with  a  sigh.  "Then  I 
could  'a'  grabbed  him  and  give  him  a  frailin'  that 
would  'a'  lasted  him  till  the  next  time  he  pestered 
me." 

"  Would  you  'a'  done  it,  Marse  Coy  ? "  asked 
Fiddling  Bill. 

"  As  certain  as  gun's  iron,"  replied  Martin 
Coy. 

"  Well,  suh !  "  commented  the  negro.  After 
that  there  was  silence  for  some  time.  The  negro, 
narrowly  watching  Martin  Coy,  saw  that  he  was 
in  a  soberer  mood  than  usual :  not  that  he  was 
ever  drunk.  It  was  his  boast,  indeed,  that,  though 

88 


THE  TROUBLES   OF   MARTIN   COY 

he  had  made  thousands  of  gallons  of  spirits,  and 
had  tasted  nearly  every  gallon  of  it,  not  a  drop 
had  ever  gone  down  his  goozle.  After  a  while 
Fiddling  Bill  ventured  to  make  another  remark. 

"  De  man  sho'  was  a  rank  talker." 

To  this  Martin  Coy  made  no  reply ;  whereupon, 
after  waiting  a  reasonable  time,  Fiddling  Bill  made 
as  if  to  tune  his  violin,  —  he  had  lowered  the  pitch 
to  suit  the  solemnity  of  the  hymn  tune,  —  but 
Martin  shook  his  head. 

"  No  more  tunes  to-night,  Bill.  We've  had 
enough  music  to  last  us  over  Sunday.  There's 
a  jug  there  with  a  tin  cup  tied  to  the  handle. 
Take  a  dram  if  you  want  one." 

Fiddling  Bill  looked  at  Martin  Coy  and  then  at 
the  jug,  and  then  for  a  wonder  he  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  suh ;  I  speck  I  done  had  'nuff.  Dat  ar 
man  put  a  bad  tas'e  in  my  mouf."  He  lingered  a 
little  while,  looked  anxiously  at  the  jug  more  than 
once,  and  then  bade  Martin  Coy  good  night. 

The  white  man  leaned  back  in  his  split-bottom 
chair  and  smoked  his  pipe,  listening  intently  to 
the  thump,  thump,  thump  of  the  wooden  leg  as  the 
negro  went  along  the  path.  When  the  sound 
died  away,  he  turned  to  the  boiler  of  the  still  and 
remarked,  — 

"Well,  well,  well!  when  a  nigger  fiddler  says  'no' 
to  a  dram,  it's  about  time  for  the  stars  to  fall  ag'in.' 

89 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

In  Martin  Coy's  opinion,  another  fall  of  stars, 
such  as  he  witnessed  when  a  lad  of  seven,  would 
be  the  prelude  to  the  final  judgment  and  day  of 
doom. 

Now  it  need  hardly  be  said  that  Martin  Coy  did 
not  go  out  of  the  distilling  business.  He  kept  it 
up  not  only  because  he  was  a  most  obstinate  and 
self-willed  individual,  but  because  he  had  no  other 
business  to  fall  back  on.  He  kept  it  up  until  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  and  succeeded,  meantime, 
in  buying  a  farm  close  to  town,  and  half  a  dozen 
negroes  to  work  it.  But  when  the  war  began  it 
opened  up  a  new  line  of  business  for  young  and 
old  —  unprofitable  as  the  event  proved,  but  beyond 
all  question  new.  Along  with  many  others, 
Martin  Coy  was  drawn  into  it. 

He  joined  the  company  organized  in  the  little 
town,  the  company  with  which  Colonel  Flournoy 
went  to  the  front,  and  engaged  in  the  arduous 
work  of  perfecting  himself  in  the  drill  tactics  and 
various  manoeuvres  which  are  so  imposing  to 
average  spectators,  but  which  are  never  really 
employed  when  war  actually  opens  its  mouth  and 
begins  to  drink  the  blood  and  crunch  the  bones  of 
its  victims. 

It  was  while  Martin  Coy  was  engaged  in  these 
duties  that  he  received  a  long  and  an  affectionate 
letter  from  his  brother  Harvey  Coy,  who,  follow- 

90 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN  COY 

ing  his  wife's  relatives,  had  emigrated  to  Missouri. 
In  this  letter  Harvey  Coy  begged  his  brother  not 
to  enlist  in  any  effort  to  destroy  the  Union.  He 
owned  slaves  himself,  he  said,  and  his  wife's 
family  was  made  up  of  slave-owners,  and  he 
declared  that  he  had  good  reason  for  saying  that 
Mr.  Lincoln  had  no  intention  of  disturbing  slavery. 
Moreover,  Harvey  said  that  the  Southern  leaders 
knew  this  as  well  as  he  did ;  nay,  better,  if  such  a 
thing  could  be,  and  they  were  simply  trying,  not 
to  preserve  slavery,  but  to  destroy  the  Union.  As 
for  himself,  he  proposed  to  join  the  defenders  of  the 
Government,  and  he  advised  his  brother  to  sell  out 
in  Georgia,  bring  his  wife  to  Missouri,  and  either 
remain  neutral  or  take  sides  for  the  Union. 

Martin  Coy  read  his  brother's  letter  over  very 
carefully,  and  then  made  his  wife  read  it  aloud. 

"  Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  that,  Molly  ? " 
he  inquired. 

"  Why,  I  think  the  brazen  fool  is  tryin'  to  insult 
us,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  allers  did  hate  him,"  she 
added.  "  He  was  as  poor  as  you  before  he  mar- 
ried Carry  Diggers.  And  after  that  he  used  to 
talk  about  '  my  niggers  '  and  '  my  property.'  I 
declare  if  he  hadn't  'a'  been  your  only  brother,  I 
believe  I'd  'a'  spit  in  his  face.  I  felt  like  it  over 
and  often.  And  now  he  wants  us  to  go  up  there 
and  be  Yankees  along  wi'  him  !  If  you  ever  meet 

91 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

him  in  the  war,  I  hope  you'll  make  it  convenient 
to  put  a  hole  plumb  through  him." 

Martin  Coy  winced  at  this.  "  I  hope  not,"  he 
protested.  "  I  don't  think  any  more  of  Harvey's 
wife  than  you  do ;  but  a  woman's  a  woman  the 
world  over ;  and  you  can't  blame  a  man  for  what 
a  woman  does.  The  capers  of  Harvey's  wife 
didn't  prejidice  me  ag'in  Harvey;  but  when  he 
comes  a-preachin'  this  doctrine,  me  and  him  can't 
gee  bosses." 

With  that  Martin  Coy  tore  his  brother's  letter 
into  little  bits  of  pieces  and  set  them  adrift  on  the 
wind  with  an  exclamation  of  bitter  disgust. 

Time,  which  carries  all  human  efforts  forward 
to  their  culmination,  carried  Martin  Coy  to  the 
front,  and,  in  the  beginning,  Providence  placed 
him  in  West  Virginia.  The  brigade  to  which  his 
company  was  attached  was  stationed  at  Laurel 
Hill,  and  a  more  desolate  place,  especially  during 
the  winter  season,  could  hardly  be  found.  The 
snow  or  the  sleet  fell  for  weeks  at  a  time,  and  even 
when  the  sun  shone  it  simply  illuminated  and 
brought  into  stronger  relief  the  vast  and  desert 
loneliness  that  fell  impartially  on  valley  and  on 
mountain. 

Martin  Coy  said  long  afterward  that  a  million 
men  gathered  in  that  region  wouldn't  have  lifted 
the  "  lonesomeness  "  of  the  place.  "  It  was  so 

92 


THE  TROUBLES   OF   MARTIN  COY 

lonesome,"  he  declared,  "that  men  choppin'  wood 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  made  you  feel  like  you 
was  in  t'other  world."  And  when  he  was  asked 
which  of  the  other  worlds  he  meant,  his  reply 
was,  "Any  one  would  'a'  suited  me  for  a 
change." 

But  the  truth  is,  Martin  Coy  looked  back  on  the 
Laurel  Hill  experience  through  a  long  vista  of 
trouble  and  keen  anguish  that  coloured  and  warped 
his  vision. 

In  the  spring  of  '61,  a  brigade  or  two  of  Feder- 
als heard  of  the  occupation  of  Laurel  Hill  by  the 
Confederates  and,  being  on  their  way  southward, 
concluded  to  pay  the  lonely  place  a  visit.  They 
carried  out  this  intention  early  one  morning,  and 
their  visit  was  so  unexpected  that  they  were  right 
in  the  camp  before  most  of  the  Confederates  knew 
there  was  a  blue  coat  within  twenty-five  miles  of 
the  place.  It  was  a  surprise,  and,  according  tc 
all  recognized  rules  of  warfare,  should  have  been 
a  very  disastrous  one ;  but  American  troops  have 
a  way  of  getting  over  their  astonishment,  as  was 
abundantly  demonstrated  on  both  sides  during  the 
war.  The  Confederates  rallied  behind  the  cabins 
they  had  built,  rallied  by  twos  and  tens,  and  then 
by  companies,  and  they  soon  succeeded  in  giving 
the  enemy  a  warm  good  morning. 

But  the  position  was  untenable  —  so  the  officers 
93 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

decided  —  and  the  Confederates  retreated.  This 
retreat,  orderly  enough  in  the  beginning,  soon 
developed  into  a  movement  in  which  every  man 
was  for  himself.  The  troops  were  not  demoral- 
ised, for  there  was  no  pursuit,  but  they  began  to 
straggle.  If  the  history  of  that  retreat  has  ever 
been  written,  the  account  has  never  fallen  under 
the  eyes  of  the  present  writer  ;  but  the  stories  told 
by  survivors  all  agree  that  it  was  the  most  horri- 
fying experience  they  were  called  on  to  endure 
throughout  the  war ;  and  some  of  them,  be  it 
remembered,  lay  for  months  in  prison,  while 
others  suffered  from  terrible  wounds. 

The  demoralisation  that  occurred  was  probably 
the  best  thing  that  could  have  happened,  for  if 
any  considerable  body  of  the  retreating  troops  had 
remained  together,  starvation  would  have  been  the 
result.  But  they  scattered  about  in  small  com- 
panies and  squads  as  they  went  tramping  through 
this  vast  wilderness.  No  doubt  a  great  deal  of 
that  country  has  been  opened  up  by  this  time,  but 
in  1 86 1  there  were  miles  and  miles  of  forest  that 
had  never  been  explored  by  white  men.  The 
statement  may  seem  hard  to  believe,  because  at 
rare  intervals  along  the  eastern  fringes  of  this 
wilderness  rude  huts  had  been  built.  But  a  veri- 
table jungle  of  interminable  width,  which  stretches 
for  hundreds  of  miles  along  the  tops  and  sides  of 

94 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN  COY 

a  range  of  mountains,  offers  no  Inducement  to 
exploration  on  the  part  of  those  who  have  even  a 
vague  idea  of  its  extent 

It  was  June  when  the  retreat  began.  In  Georgia 
the  blackberries  and  other  wild  fruit  are  ripe  at 
that  season.  In  that  vast  and  mountainous  wilder- 
ness the  trees  and  shrubs,  with  the  exception  of 
the  laurel,  were  just  beginning  to  throw  out  leaves, 
and  the  pale  green  of  the  new  foliage  was  but  the 
sickening  sign  of  barrenness  to  the  lost  Confed- 
erates. Some  of  the  unfortunates  were  never 
heard  of  again ;  but  the  squad  with  which  Martin 
Coy  found  himself  managed  to  preserve  life  by 
feeding  on  roots  and  barks,  especially  the  inner 
bark  of  the  red  elm  and  sassafras.  On  several 
occasions  they  managed  to  shoot  high-flying  crows; 
and  once  they  killed  a  wild  pig,  and  had  a  most 
joyous  feast. 

Finally,  after  roaming  about  for  many  dreary 
days,  Martin  Coy  and  his  companions  came  to  a 
stream  of  running  water,  the  first  they  had  seen. 
By  following  this  they  not  only  returned  to  big 
hominy  and  fried  chicken,  which  are  the  equiva- 
lents of  civilisation  in  that  region,  but  fell  plump 
upon  an  adventure  which  brought  Martin  Coy  face 
to  face  with  an  event  that  changed  his  whole  life, 
and  made  existence  dark  for  him  in  a  very  real 
sense  for  many  a  long  day. 

95 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

The  stream  which  they  had  been  following 
through  a  narrow  and  somewhat  tortuous  gorge 
suddenly  leaped  off  a  precipice  so  high  that  some 
of  the  water  was  shattered  into  a  mist  which  arose 
from  the  pool  below  as  vaporous  as  though  it 
had  emanated  from  a  steaming  caldron.  There 
was  nothing  for  the  weary  and  famishing  Confed- 
erates to  do  but  to  retrace  their  steps  a  little 
distance  and  climb  from  the  gorge  the  best  they 
could.  It  was  not  an  easy  matter  for  men  so  torn 
by  hunger  and  so  burdened  with  fatigue ;  but  led 
by  Martin  Coy,  whose  dogged  energy  had  been 
the  means  of  keeping  up  the  spirits  of  his  compan- 
ions, they  crawled  out  and  proceeded  in  a  direction 
parallel  with  the  stream.  They  had  not  gone  far 
before  they  found  themselves  gazing  upon  a  scene 
which,  after  their  terrible  experience,  seemed  a 
foretaste  and  first  glimpse  of  Paradise.  It  was  as 
if  the  vast  wilderness  had  rolled  away  behind  them, 
or  as  if  a  black  veil  had  been  lifted. 

In  the  valley  below  them  a  farm  lay  nestling  in 
the  sunshine.  A  small  flock  of  sheep  browsed 
busily  in  a  field  near  the  barn,  and  a  number  of 
cattle  stood  contentedly  chewing  their  cuds.  Fowls 
were  running  about,  a  small  dog  barked  inter- 
mittently, and  blue  smoke  curled  from  the  chimney 
of  the  dwelling.  The  Confederates  gazed  on  this 
scene  of  beauty  in  joyous  silence  until  one  of  them, 

96 


THE  TROUBLES   OF  MARTIN  COV 

a  man  from  Putnam  County,  Georgia,  true  to  his 
raising  and  his  first  principles,  exclaimed,  — 

"  Boys,  I  smell  hog  meat  a-fryin' !  " 

"No,"  said  Martin  Coy,  after  sniffing  the  air; 
"  it's  chicken  a-fryin'." 

"Then  to-day's  Sunday,"  was  Putnam's  com- 
ment. 

Whereupon  Martin  Coy  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
dirty  envelope,  counted  the  marks  upon  it,  and 
after  a  brief  calculation  asserted  that  the  day  was 
Sunday.  He  had  kept  tale  of  the  number  of  times 
he  had  wound  his  watch,  so  that  every  mark  stood 
for  twenty-four  hours. 

The  farmhouse  seemed  to  be  close  at  hand :  one 
of  the  party  said  it  looked  like  a  man  might  back 
up  the  hill  a  piece,  get  a  good  running  start,  and 
jump  right  spang  into  the  garden.  Nevertheless, 
they  had  to  walk  nearly  a  mile  and  a  half  before 
the  house  was  reached,  and  when  they  arrived 
there  they  marched  right  into  the  arms  of  a  squad 
of  Federal  troopers.  They  had  been  warned  of  the 
troopers  by  a  man  who  appeared  to  be  one  of  the 
hands,  who  was  hitching  a  small  mule  to  a  wagon ; 
but  as  you  may  toll  a  pig  into  a  butcher's  shop 
with  one  ear  of  corn,  so,  on  the  same  principle, 
these  famished  and  weary  Confederates  determined 
to  risk  everything  in  order  to  satisfy  their  hunger. 
If  there  had  been  a  man  among  them  of  the 
97 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

dash  and  energy  of  Forrest,  they  could  easily  have 
captured  the  Federals,  for  there  was  a  momentary 
stampede  among  the  latter,  who  were  lounging 
about  without  their  arms,  when  they  saw  this  grim 
and  determined-looking  little  band  filing  into  the 
yard ;  but  the  Confederates  were  clean  f orespent. 
In  spite  of  the  warning  cry  of  "  Halt ! "  they  came 
shuffling  toward  the  house,  some  of  them  stagger- 
ing by  reason  of  the  reaction  that  had  set  in.  The 
officer  in  charge  of  the  Federals  took  in  the  situa- 
tion at  a  glance,  and  so  did  the  motherly-looking 
housewife,  and  it  was  not  long  before  they  were 
seated  around  a  bowl  of  steaming  chicken-broth, 
in  which  wheaten  dumplings  had  been  stewed. 
Simple  as  this  was,  it  was  more  than  a  feast ;  and 
it  restored  hope  and  energy,  and  gave  them 
strength  and  courage.  The  truth  is,  while  they 
had  been  weak  from  hunger,  their  chief  trouble 
had  come  from  the  fact  that  they  were  lost  in  a 
wilderness  that  seemed  endless.  The  interminable 
jungle  had  racked  their  nerves  and  sapped  their 
vitality  far  more  completely  than  hunger  and  fa- 
tigue; and  when  they  were  once  free  from  that 
incubus  and  had  satisfied  their  hunger,  they  found 
themselves  in  pretty  good  condition. 

Now,  Martin  Coy's  terrible  experience  in  this 
mountain  jungle  was  made  more  terrible  still  by 
reason  of  his  keen  and  vivid  remembrance  of  the 

98 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN   COY 

awful  prophecy  of  the  revivalist  who,  with  other 
preachers,  had  visited  his  stillhouse.  From  the 
moment  that  he  realized  the  plight  of  himself  and 
his  companions  the  words  came  back  to  him  with 
piercing  power :  "  The  day  will  come,  be  it  soon  or 
late,  when  you  will  hide  from  the  light  of  the  sun  ; 
when  you  will  slink  about  in  the  darkness ;  when 
you  will  be  a  dead  man  though  yet  alive." 

They  came  back  to  him  and  stayed  with  him ; 
he  mumbled  them  over  to  himself  by  day,  and 
they  became  living  things  in  his  dreams  and  flitted 
to  and  fro  in  his  slumbers  by  night.  And  now 
when  he  came  to  realise  that  he  was  a  prisoner, 
and  that  in  all  probability  he  would  be  immured 
for  months,  even  years,  the  words  of  the  preacher 
gathered  fresh  force. 

Owing  to  the  physical  condition  of  the  Confed- 
erates, which,  as  has  been  hinted,  was  not  nearly 
so  bad  as  it  seemed  to  be,  their  captors  deter- 
mined to  remain  at  the  farmhouse  over  night. 
The  prisoners  were  placed  in  the  loft  of  the  barn, 
which  was  half  filled  with  hay,  and  here  they 
found  no  difficulty  in  addressing  themselves  to 
slumber.  Some  time  during  the  night,  or  it  may 
have  been  toward  morning,  Martin  Coy  felt  him- 
self roughly  shaken.  He  would  have  started  up 
with  an  exclamation,  but  a  hand  over  his  mouth 
pressed  him  back  with  a  force  that  was  irresist 

99 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

ible,  and  an  angry  whisper  sounded  close  to  his 
ear:  — 

"  Don't  speak,  but  listen  !  You're  all  a  pack  of 
cowardly  whelps,  or  the  Yanks  would  be  where 
you  are.  Do  you  hear  me  ? "  The  hand  was  still 
over  Martin  Coy's  mouth,  and  he  could  only  nod 
an  affirmative.  "  None  of  you  is  worth  the  powder 
and  lead  it'd  take  to  blow  your  heads  off,  but  I'm 
going  to  give  you  a  chance  to  show  what's  in  you 
to-morrow  morning.  Are  you  listening  ?  "  Again 
Martin  Coy  nodded.  "  Well,  when  you  get  about 
five  miles  on  the  way  you'll  see  a  man,  a  mule,  and 
a  wagon  in  the  road.  The  mule  will  be  unhitched. 
When  your  crowd  comes  along  she'll  back  right 
into  it  and  begin  to  kick  —  do  you  hear  ?  Pass  the 
word  to  your  men,  and  tell  them  to  keep  their 
eyes  open,  and  when  the  mule  cuts  her  caper  let 
each  man  grab  a  Yank  and  take  his  gun  away 
from  him.  You  are  six  to  eight,  and  the  mule  will 
take  care  of  the  two  extra  men.  Is  it  a  go  ? " 

Martin  Coy  nodded  emphatically.  "  It'd  better 
be  a  go,"  said  the  whisper.  "  The  man  that  flunks 
will  never  see  daylight  any  more.  What  is  your 
name  ? " 

The  hand  was  cautiously  raised,  and  back  came 
the  answer,  "Martin  Coy."  "Well,"  said  the 
other,  "  don't  be  coy  in  the  morning.  When  you 
hear  your  name  called  out,  grab  the  gun  of  the 

100 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARtlN  COY 

man  next  to  you  and  kill  him,  and  tell  your  men 
to  do  the  same.     Good  night." 

Martin  Coy  felt  the  straw  move  once,  as  if  some 
one  was  turning  over  to  find  a  more  comfortable 
position.  After  that  there  was  silence,  except  for 
the  squeak  of  a  mouse,  or  the  fluttering  scamper 
of  a  rat  along  the  rafters.  He  was  awake  at  dawn. 
He  heard  some  one  quarrelling  with  a  mule  in  the 
same  tone  and  language  he  would  use  with  a 
person.  "It's  a  mighty  good  thing  I  come  out 
here  when  I  did ;  if  I'd  'a'  waited  till  sun-up,  you'd 
'a'  chawed  up  the  whole  inside  of  the  barn.  You 
wait  till  I  git  you  whar  nobody  can't  see  us ;  I'll 
cut  me  a  stick,  an*  I'll  pay  you  for  the  old  an'  the 
new." 

Thus  said  the  man  to  the  mule.  When  Martin 
Coy  looked  about  him  he  saw  no  one  but  his  com- 
panions in  misery ;  and  when  he  would  have  told 
these  of  the  information  he  had  received,  the  first 
one  he  spoke  to  remarked  sulkily,  "Why,  you 
told  us  that  last  night;  you'll  keep  on  blabbin' 
about  it  until  everybody  in  the  neighbourhood 
knows  it." 

Blabbing!  Whatever  faults  and  weaknesses 
Martin  Coy  had,  blabbing  was  not  among  them. 
The  charge  stung  him  so  that  he  withdrew  into 
his  shell,  and  had  nothing  more  to  say  to  his  com' 
panions  on  any  subject  whatever. 

101 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

The  six  Confederates,  accompanied  by  their 
eight  captors,  were  on  the  road  early.  The  Fed- 
erals seemed  to  know  the  ground,  and  were  in 
no  hurry.  Their  main  force  was  not  so  very  far 
away,  as  the  Confederates  learned  afterward.  Mar 
tin  Coy  was  at  the  head  of  the  little  squad  of 
prisoners,  and  he  not  only  marched  close  to  the 
Federal  guard  on  his  right,  but  kept  a  sharp  look- 
out for  the  man,  the  wagon,  and  the  mule. 

When  they  had  travelled  about  four  or  five  miles 
they  came  suddenly  upon  the  man,  the  wagon,  and 
the  mule.  The  mule  was  unhitched,  a  part  of  the 
harness  hanging  loose,  as  though  it  had  been  torn 
off,  and  the  wagon  was  half-slued  across  the  road. 
The  arrangement  seemed  to  be  an  ideal  one,  but 
Martin  Coy's  heart  sank  when  he  saw  a  mounted 
Federal  officer  talking  to  the  man.  How  many 
more  were  there  in  the  neighbourhood  ? 

Martin  Coy  never  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  face  of 
the  mounted  officer.  He  only  noted  in  a  general 
way  that  the  man  was  large  and  fine-looking.  He 
watched  the  man  and  the  mule,  and  drew  closer 
to  the  guard  on  his  right.  Would  the  scheme 
work?  He  would  soon  know.  They  were  not 
ten  yards  from  the  wagon.  The  man  was  say- 
ing: — 

"Why,  she's  the  plagueon'dest  creetur  in  the 
known  world.  Whoa !  didn't  I  tell  you  to  whoa  ? '' 

1 02 


THE   TROUBLES   OF   MARTIN   COY 

he  cried.  The  mule  had  flung  herself  around  with 
incredible  swiftness  and  was  now  letting  fly  both 
heels  at  the  officer's  horse,  which,  backing  into  the 
ravine,  suddenly  slipped  and  fell.  The  prisoners 
were  only  a  few  steps  from  the  wagon.  "Oh, 
what  are  you  up  to  ?  Why  don't  you  whoa  before 
I  borry  a  gun  an'  kill  you  ? "  The  mule,  backing 
and  kicking,  dragged  the  man  after  her  (to  all 
appearances)  around  the  end  of  the  wagon.  "  If 
Martin  Coy  was  here,  he'd  fix  you! "  yelled  the  man. 

The  prisoners  accepted  this  as  a  signal,  and 
each  grabbed  the  gun  of  the  Federal  nearest  to 
him.  It  was  over  in  a  moment,  or  would  have 
been  over  had  not  the  mounted  officer,  whose 
horse  had  recovered  his  footing,  come  spurring 
toward  the  mele'e,  pistol  in  hand.  "  Stand  up 
there,  men !  Who  called  for  Martin  —  " 

The  sentence  was  never  completed.  Martin  Coy 
had  levelled  his  gun  and  fired  as  the  officer  spoke. 
The  Federal  swayed  and  would  have  fallen  from 
his  horse,  but  one  of  the  men  caught  him,  and 
eased  him  to  the  ground.  "  Martin !  "  he  feebly 
cried,  then  groaned  and  seemed  to  be  quite  dead. 

The  groan  had  an  echo,  for  Martin  Coy,  coming 
forward,  found  that  he  had  shot  his  brother. 

"  It's  a  judgment ! "  he  exclaimed  hoarsely.  "  A 
judgment !  Now  I'm  done  !  You-all  can  take  me 
where  you  please." 

103 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"Well,  I  reckon  not  —  not  much!"  said  the 
man  who  had  been  manipulating  the  mule.  "  War's 
war,  and  when  family  connections  git  on  both 
sides  of  the  fence  where  shootin's  gwine  on,  some- 
body's bound  to  git  hurt."  With  that  he  detailed 
two  of  the  Federals  to  look  after  the  body  of  the 
officer.  One  of  them  mounted  the  horse  and  rode 
off  to  the  Federal  camp,  the  other  remained  by 
the  roadside. 

The  countryman,  who  was  no  other  than  John 
Omahundro,  on  his  way  to  Richmond,  left  his 
wagon  where  it  was,  and  turned  the  mule  loose, 
giving  her  a  friendly  slap  as  he  did  so.  She  went 
cantering  back  to  the  farmhouse  in  double-quick 
time. 

"  Now  you  Yanks,  jest  make  your  minds  easy. 
You've  swapped  places  with  these  chaps  here. 
Form  in  line  there ;  single  file.  Right  about  face, 
and  forward  march,  with  a  hep  —  hep  —  hep  ! 
Keep  step  there,  Coy.  Don't  tangle  up  my 
army." 

On  the  side  of  the  hill,  as  they  retraced  their 
steps,  a  footpath  was  visible.  It  was  narrow,  but 
well  marked.  Into  this  Omahundro  filed  the  men, 
and  they  were  soon  on  their  way  south. 

Martin  Coy  seemed  to  be  a  changed  man ;  he 
would  obey  orders,  but  he  would  not  answer  when 
spoken  to.  The  only  words  he  uttered  were  mum- 

104 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN  COY 

bled  to  himself,  and  his  companions  never  knev» 
whether  he  was  praying  or  cursing.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  he  was  simply  repeating  the  prophecy  of 
the  revivalist :  "  The  day  will  come,  be  it  soon  or  late, 
when  you  will  hide  from  the  light  of  the  sun ; 
when  you  will  slink  about  in  the  darkness ;  when 
you  will  be  a  dead  man  though  yet  alive" 

Instinctively  the  men  knew  that  Martin  Coy 
was  in  great  mental  trouble.  Omahundro  was 
especially  full  of  sympathy.  When  they  reached 
Richmond,  by  a  word  he  secured  a  furlough  for 
Martin  Coy  and  saw  that  he  was  provided  with 
the  papers  necessary  for  his  transportation  and 
with  a  sufficient  supply  of  money. 

Just  when  Martin  Coy  reached  home  no  one 
knew  except  his  wife  and  himself.  He  kept  to 
himself  as  rigidly  as  a  monk  who  dwells  alone  in  a 
cell.  He  felt  that  he  was  under  an  awful  judgment 
from  Heaven,  and  his  penance,  self-inflicted,  was 
that  he  never  allowed  the  sun  to  shine  on  him,  or 
permitted  his  eyes  to  rest  on  the  light  it  gives 
forth.  It  was  literally  as  the  preacher  said  it 
would  be :  he  hid  from  the  light  of  the  sun,  and 
when  he  went  forth  at  all,  he  slunk  about  under 
cover  of  the  darkness.  So  far  as  the  world  was 
concerned,  it  was  the  same  as  if  he  had  been  dead 
and  buried. 

He  was  so  earnest  in  his  beliefs  and  purposes 
105 


ON   THE   WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

that  he  convinced  his  wife  of  the  spiritual  utility 
of  his  asceticism ;  and  she,  being  a  woman  of  con- 
siderable energy,  and  possessing  a  good  head  for 
business,  took  charge  of  his  affairs,  and  proceeded 
to  manage  them  with  a  success  that  attracted 
wide  attention. 

To  quote  Mrs.  Nicklin,  "  Old  Moll  Coy  is  tryin' 
for  to  be  a  man ;  she's  act'ally  and  candidly  begun  to 
sprout  a  beard."  A  remark  which  drew  from  Mr. 
Nicklin  the  response  that,  "  A  'oman  as  smart  as 
any  man,  and  a  plegged  sight  smarter'n  most  on 
'em,  is  got  a  good  right  for  to  have  a  beard." 

Martin  Coy  was  at  home  for  nearly  four  years 
before  anybody  knew  it  except  his  wife.  He  occu- 
pied a  room  in  the  second  story  of  his  house,  and 
the  windows  to  this  room  were  not  only  closely 
shuttered  on  the  outside,  but  heavily  hung  with 
curtains  on  the  inside.  He  limited  himself  to  one 
meal  of  cold  victuals,  and  took  that  at  night  by  the 
light  of  a  tallow  candle.  Sometimes  he  read  the 
Bible,  but  more  often  he  paced  back  and  forth 
as  far  as  the  narrow  limits  of  his  room  would 
allow.  But  after  the  first  fever  of  his  repentance 
(if  it  can  be  called  that)  passed  away,  he  ventured 
to  walk  about  at  hours  when  he  judged  that  the 
rest  of  the  community  were  sound  asleep. 

When  the  surviving  members  of  his  company 
returned  home  in  1865,  people  wondered  that  Mrs 

1 06 


THE   TROUBLES   OF   MARTIN   COY 

Coy  made  no  inquiries  after  her  husband,  who  had 
failed  to  return  with  the  others.  Then  rumours 
of  various  kinds  flew  about.  Some  said  that  he, 
with  a  number  of  others,  perished  in  the  retreat 
from  Laurel  Hill,  others  that  he  died  in  a  North- 
ern prison,  and  there  was  one  persistent  story  that 
he  had  deserted  from  the  Confederate  Army  and 
joined  his  brother  on  the  Federal  side.  Now,  in 
his  walks  at  night,  he  had  been  seen  and  recognised 
by  various  negroes.  This,  however,  was  no  evi- 
dence to  them  that  Martin  Coy  was  alive.  Quite 
the  contrary.  It  was  an  evidence  that  he  was 
dead.  Fiddling  Bill,  who  had  known  him  well 
and  liked  him,  saw  him  one  night  and  spoke  to 
him.  Receiving  no  response,  he  spoke  again  in  a 
louder  tone;  whereupon  Martin  Coy  turned  slowly 
around,  looked  at  the  negro  hard,  and  groaned. 

This  was  sufficient  for  Fiddling  Bill,  who  had 
serious  doubts  even  before  he  ventured  to  speak. 
The  negro  turned  and  went  back  the  way  he  had 
come  as  fast  as  his  heavy  wooden  leg  would  per- 
mit him.  He  was  going  at  such  a  rate  that  when 
he  came  to  a  plank  sidewalk  the  thump  of  the  leg 
could  be  heard  blocks  away;  and  at  one  point, 
where  the  iron-shod  foot  of  the  wooden  leg  was 
forced  between  two  planks  and  held  there  as  in  a 
vice,  Fiddling  Bill  gave  one  despairing  wrench  and 
tore  up  a  whole  section  of  the  walk. 

107 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

The  negro's  testimony  and  the  evidence  of  the 
wrecked  walk  were  sufficient  to  convince  all  the 
negroes,  and  not  a  few  whites,  that  the  ghost  of 
Martin  Coy  walked  abroad  and  refused  to  be  laid. 
The  reason  was  plain.  He  had  died  in  strange 
parts,  and  had  been  buried  in  strange  soil,  and  his 
perturbed  spirit  would  never  be  satisfied  until  his 
bones  were  brought  back  home.  This  was  mani- 
fest on  the  face  of  it,  since  he  had  been  seen  most 
frequently  near  the  village  burying-ground. 

Of  course  the  more  sensible  people  of  the  com- 
munity never  bothered  their  heads  with  these 
stories,  but  they  flew  about  all  the  same,  and  so 
much  life  and  substance  has  a  myth  of  this  sort 
that  it  persists  to  this  day,  and  "  Coy's  Ghost "  is 
still  supposed  by  the  superstitious  to  be  walking  in 
that  region,  flitting  about,  as  it  were,  from  neigh- 
bourhood to  neighbourhood  to  meet  emergencies 
or  to  explain  manifestations  that  appear  to  be 
mysterious. 

Slowly,  however,  the  real  facts  of  the  case 
became  known  to  the  older  citizens,  and  these,  as 
usual,  were  disposed  to  be  sympathetic ;  especially 
Colonel  Fontaine  Flournoy,  of  whose  family  the 
Coys  had,  in  old  times,  been  retainers  —  not  in  the 
feudal  sense,  of  course,  but  by  reason  of  long 
association  and  mutual  obligations.  As  soon  as 
Colonel  Flournoy  returned  from  his  South  Ameri- 

108 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN  COY 

can  adventures  he  called  on  Mrs.  Coy,  and  from 
her  learned  the  facts.  He  also  held  a  brief  con- 
versation with  Martin  Coy  through  the  closed  door 
of  his  room,  and  tried  to  convince  him  of  the  folly 
of  his  course.  The  effort  was  unsuccessful.  Mar- 
tin Coy  clung  to  the  idea  that  the  revivalist  who 
denounced  him  had  been  the  means  of  bringing 
down  upon  his  head  the  judgment  of  Heaven. 

Now,  among  those  who  took  a  sincere  interest 
in  the  case  of  Martin  Coy  was  Captain  McCarthy. 
He  was  one  of  the  few  who  had  heard  all  the 
facts.  As  he  was  a  very  practical  man,  he  went 
to  work  in  a  practical  way,  saying  nothing  of  his 
plans.  But  his  daughter  Nora  observed  that  he 
was  engaged  in  a  very  extensive  correspondence. 
One  morning  she  counted  as  many  as  twenty  let- 
ters lying  on  the  library  table,  all  sealed,  stamped, 
and  addressed.  One,  she  noticed,  was  addressed 
to  the  Pension  Office,  and  this  she  made  the  basis 
of  a  series  of  inquiries  which  were  levelled  at  her 
father  in  a  tone  at  once  innocent  and  serious. 

It  was,  "  Dada,  dear,  do  you  think  I'll  ever  draw 
a  pension  ?  I  carried  your  laundry  to  you  when 
you  were  in  the  hotel ;  don't  you  think  I  deserve 
a  pension  for  that  ? "  Or,  "  Has  the  Government 
ever  rewarded  you  for  not  taking  charge  of  the 
paper  which  was  to  settle  everything  ? " 

Captain  McCarthy  was  very  much  puzzled  by 
109 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

such    questions   as   these   until  he   happened  to 
remember   that   Nora  had  been  dusting    in    the 
library,  whereupon,  in  mock  indignation,  he  tried 
to  catch  her.     Nora  ran  screaming  and  laughing 
around  the  room,  out  of  the  door  into  the  hall,  and 
from  the   hall  straight  into  the   arms   of  young 
Francis  Flournoy,  who  had  called  at  that  hour  on 
pretence  of  asking  the  Captain's  advice  on  some 
business   matter.     He  thought,  poor  young  man, 
that  he  was  very  sly  and  shrewd,  and  that  no  one 
except  Miss  Nora  knew  why  he  called  so  often ; 
whereas,  Miss  Nora  was  the  only  one  in  all  that 
neighbourhood  who  wasn't  really  certain.     She  had 
her  suspicions,  and  they  were  very  pleasant  ones  ; 
but  she  had  her  doubts,  too  — and  she  was  very 
reserved   and  circumspect ;  and  she  never,  under 
any    circumstances,    betrayed    her    real    feelings 
except  in  a  thousand  different  ways  which  were 
plain  to  everybody  except  to  young  Flournoy.     It 
is  the  way  of  lovers  the  world  over,  so  the  story- 
tellers say. 

But  when  Nora  startled  Francis  Flournoy  and 
herself  by  accidentally  running  into  his  arms,  with 
her  father  looking  on,  and  not  attempting  to  con- 
ceal his  triumphant  amusement,  she  didn't  know 
whether  to  laugh  or  cry.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
did  both  at  one  and  the  same  time,  and  blushed 
and  bit  her  lip,  and  pretended  to  be  very  much 


no 


NORA,  WHOSE  INTEREST  AND  CURIOSITY  IMPELLED  HER  TO  LISTEN 
AT  THE  LIBRARY  DOOR. 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN  COY 

amused  at  everything,  and  very  angry  with  every- 
body. But  after  a  while,  as  they  were  talking  on 
the  veranda,  she  'became  very  much  subdued. 
Wonderful  for  Nora,  she  fell  into  a  fit  of  melan- 
choly ;  and  this  young  Flournoy  had  sense  enough 
to  take  advantage  of.  He  was  used  to  young 
ladies  who  were  romantic  and  troubled  with  a 
gentle  melancholy ;  but  Nora,  with  her  various  and 
versatile  emotions,  chief  among  which  was  a  keen 
and  restless  humour,  had  been  very  much  of  a  puz- 
zle to  the  young  man. 

When,  therefore,  she  remarked  with  a  little  sigh, 
that  she  supposed  he  came  to  see  her  father,  he 
remarked  that  he  was  in  no  hurry,  and  that  if  — 
well,  in  short,  he  then  and  there  took  opportunity 
by  the  foretop  and  said  what  he  had  been  trying 
to  say  for  many  months.  And  as  for  Nora,  she  said 
that  she  never  could  enter  into  any  engagement  so 
serious  until  her  father  had  approved  of  it,  and  so 
forth,  and  so  on.  This  suggestion  was  promptly 
followed  by  Francis  Flournoy.  He  could  talk  to 
a  man ;  and  he  had  a  long  and  serious  talk  with 
Nora's  father,  who,  after  pointing  out,  as  thought- 
ful fathers  will,  what  a  solemn  and  sacred  bond 
marriage  is,  said  that  nothing  could  please  him 
more  than  to  see  his  daughter  the  wife  of  the  son 
of  his  old  friend. 

And  Nora,  whose  interest  and  curiosity  impelled 
in 


ON  THE   WING  OF   OCCASIONS 

her  to  listen  at  the  library  door,  became  so  fright- 
ened at  the  serious  character  of  the  conversation 
that  she  went  off  somewhere  and  cried  —  a  fact 
which  thoroughly  restored  her  high  spirits.  Her 
father,  however,  must  have  his  joke,  for  when  he 
saw  her  he  put  on  a  very  serious  and  perplexed 
countenance. 

"  Nora,"  he  said,  "  until  son  Francis  came  and 
talked  with  me,  I  was  sure  that  the  event  of  this 
morning  was  an  accident." 

"  What  event,  dada  ?  "  inquired  Nora,  blushing. 

"Why,  the  performance  of  rushing  out  and 
jumping  into  the  young  man's  arms." 

Strange  to  say,  she  forgot  to  be  teased.  Instead 
of  protesting  against  his  whimsical  suggestion,  she 
threw  her  arms  around  him  and  exclaimed,  "  Oh, 
you  are  the  best  man  in  the  whole  world !  " 

"  There  are  exceptions,"  he  remarked ;  "  but 
what  else  could  I  be  with  such  a  child  as  this  to 
give  away  to  the  first  young  lover  that  asks  for 
her?" 

Now  you  will  say  that  this  is  taking  you  away 
from  Martin  Coy  and  his  troubles.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  carrying  us  straight  to  the  project  which 
Captain  McCarthy  had  devised.  For  the  wedding 
of  Nora  and  young  Flournoy  was  made  the  occa- 
sion of  a  device  to  draw  Martin  Coy  out  of  his 
shell,  and  to  convince  him  that  some  things  are 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN  COY 

true  as  well  as  others,   as    Mr.    Nicklin   would 
say. 

It  was  decided  by  the  young  people  that  the 
wedding  should  take  place  within  two  months  at 
least,  the  particular  day  to  conform,  of  course,  to 
Nora's  arrangements.  Now,  when  a  girl  decides 
to  get  married,  there's  a  great  question  of  gowns, 
robes,  and  what-nots  —  a  question  of  interminable 
and  unending  details ;  for  the  discussions  started 
then  may  rest  a  while,  but  you  may  be  sure  they 
will  be  carried  safely  over  to  the  next  generation, 
when  the  girl  who  was  in  such  a  flurry  over  her 
own  outfit  will  be  every  bit  as  nervous  over  that  of 
her  daughter. 

Meantime  Captain  McCarthy  carried  on  his  cor- 
respondence with  such  vigour  that  he  soon  made  a 
discovery  of  great  importance,  and  this  was  why, 
the  day  before  the  wedding,  h'e  drove  to  the  rail- 
road station  a  few  miles  away,  and  returned  with 
a  stranger.  This  done,  the  Captain  sought  out 
Martin  Coy  and  insisted  on  seeing  him  face  to 
face. 

"  I  like  you  well  enough,"  said  Martin,  "  but  I 
don't  want  to  see  you." 

"  I  want  to  see  you  and  talk  to  you  for  your 
own  sake,"  the  Captain  insisted. 

"  My  sake  ain't  so  much  of  a  sake  as  to  worry 
you,  I  hope,"  remarked  Martin  Coy. 

113 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS     , 

"We'll  never  get  to  Heaven  if  our  neighbours' 
troubles  don't  worry  us,"  suggested  the  Captain. 
"  I  want  to  see  you  for  Nora's  sake." 

Now  Nora  had  taken  a  very  great  interest  in 
the  troubles  of  Martin  Coy.  She  had  gone  over 
and  talked  to  him  through  his  closed  door,  and 
only  a  day  or  two  previous  to  the  Captain's  visit 
had  sung  and  played  on  the  harp  for  Martin. 
Being  in  a  romantic  mood  herself,  owing  to  cir- 
cumstances, the  songs  she  had  chosen  were  Irish 
ballads,  and  the  quality  of  her  voice,  which  was 
rich  and  sweet,  and  the  heart-breaking  character 
of  the  melodies,  were  sufficient  to  bring  tears  to 
Martin  Coy's  eyes  for  the  first  time  in  many  years. 
She  heard  him  sobbing  when  her  songs  were 
ended,  and  she  slipped  away  without  saying  a 
word.  So  when  Captain  McCarthy  said  "for 
Nora's  sake,"  he  put  a  new  face  on  the  matter. 

"She's  a  mighty  fine  girl,  I  reckon,"  remarked 
Martin  Coy.  "  She  came  over  and  sung  for  me 
the  other  day,  and  who  else  in  all  the  world  would 
'a'  done  that  ?  " 

"It's  Nora's  way,"  said  the  Captain,  gently. 
He  had  a  marvellous  touch  of  sympathy  in  his 
voice,  when  he  chose  to  employ  it.  "  It's  the 
child's  way.  When  she  came  home  she  was  cry- 
ing." 

Martin  Coy  made  no  reply  to  this,  but  after  a 
114 


THE  TROUBLES   OF  MARTIN  COY 

while  the  key  turned  in  the  lock,  and  the  door 
opened.  "Come  in,  and  I'll  strike  a  match,"  he 
said.  This  done,  a  candle  was  soon  lighted,  and 
Martin  Coy  turned  inquiring  eyes  on  the  face  of 
the  man  who  had  insisted  on  seeing  him.  He  was 
surprised  to  find  that  the  look  which  Captain 
McCarthy  fixed  on  him  was  not  one  of  curiosity. 

"  I  was  not  especially  anxious  to  see  your  face," 
explained  the  Captain.  "  I  wanted  you  to  see 
mine,  so  that  you  could  judge  for  yourself  whether 
I  am  likely  to  make  an  idle  or  a  foolish  request  of 
a  man,  who,  for  so  many  years,  has  had  sorrow 
for  a  bedfellow." 

The  features  of  Captain  McCarthy  could  be 
stern  enough  when  the  necessity  arose,  but  they 
were  softened  now  and  illuminated  by  a  friendly 
light  in  his  eyes.  The  most  ignorant  human  being 
in  the  world  would  have  had  no  difficulty  in  trust- 
ing that  face,  to  which  fixed  principles  and  an 
invincible  desire  to  follow  the  right  on  all  occasions, 
and  at  all  hazards,  had  given  a  certain  air  of 
nobility. 

"The  request  I  want  to  make  is  that  you  will 
come  to  Nora's  wedding." 

Martin  Coy  frowned  and  threw  up  both  hands 
with  a  querulous  exclamation:  "Now,  Cap,  you 
know  I  can't  do  that.  Oh,  why  do  yov  pester  me 
that-a-way  ? " 

»S 


ON  THE   WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

"The  ceremony  will  take  place  at  night,"  re- 
marked McCarthy ;  "  to-morrow  night." 

"  But  everything'll  be  all  lit  up ;  folks  could  see 
me  a  mile  in  that  light.  No,  Cap,  I  wish  the  child 
mighty  well ;  that's  enough ;  I  don't  want  to  bring 
no  judgment  down  on  her  head.  They  say  she's 
purty  as  a  pink ;  I'd  give  her  bad  luck  the  balance 
of  her  days.  Look  at  me !  O  Lord,  look  at  me ! " 

"  You  will  sit  in  a  dark  room,  and  you  will  be 
seen  only  by  those  you  desire  to  see."  Martin 
Coy  rubbed  his  hands  together  as  though  washing 
them.  "  And  Nora  has  set  her  heart  on  it.  She 
says  she  won't  be  as  happy  as  she  wants  to  be  if 
you  fail  to  come." 

"Did  she  say  that?"  Martin  Coy's  voice  broke 
and  grew  husky. 

"  She  said  a  great  deal  more  than  that,"  replied 
Captain  McCarthy.  "  She  said  she  couldn't  bear 
to  be  happy,  knowing  that  you  were  sitting  here 
lonely  and  unhappy." 

"  Lord,  Lord !  "  cried  Martin  Coy,  covering  his 
face  with  both  hands.  "  Has  she  allers  been  like 
that  ? "  he  asked,  after  a  while. 

"  Ever  since  she  was  a  little  slip  of  a  girl,"  said 
Captain  McCarthy. 

Martin  Coy  walked  up  and  down  the  room  for 
some  time.  Then  he  paused.  "  Will  you  come 
after  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

116 


THE   TROUBLES   OF  MARTIN   COY 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  other,  "  with  the  greatest 
pleasure  in  the  world.  And  I'll  say  this"  —  Cap- 
tain McCarthy's  eyes  were  speaking  now  —  "  when 
you  return  home  from  Nora's  wedding,  you'll 
never  walk  in  the  darkness  any  more;  you'll 
never  hide  from  the  light  of  the  sun  any  more." 

"You  reckon  not?"  asked  Coy,  eagerly. 

"  You'll  see,  my  friend." 

When  Captain  McCarthy  went  downstairs,  Mrs. 
Coy  was  waiting  for  him.  What  had  happened, 
and  how  did  he  manage  to  get  in  the  room  ? 
To  her  mind,  the  explanation  didn't  explain,  and 
when  she  learned  that  her  husband  had  promised 
to  attend  Nora's  wedding,  she  vowed  that  wonders 
would  never  cease,  though  this  was  the  greatest 
wonder  of  all. 

Martin  Coy  went  to  the  wedding.  The  library 
had  no  light  in  it,  and  the  door  looking  out  into 
the  parlour  had  a  strip  of  white  ribbon  tied  across 
it,  and  this  kept  all  intruders  out.  The  house  was 
filled  with  a  goodly  company  of  men  and  women, 
boys  and  girls,  and  there  was  a  great  mixture  of 
music  and  laughter,  rustling  dresses,  fluttering 
fans,  and  the  incessant  chatter  proper  to  a  festal 
occasion.  Martin  Coy  feasted  his  eyes  and  ears 
on  it  all.  He  felt  elated  without '  knowing  why. 
He  paid  no  attention  when  the  door  leading  upon 
the  veranda  opened  and  some  one  came  in  and  took 
117 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

a  seat  not  far  from  him.  He  heard  nothing  until 
Captain  McCarthy  came  in  by  the  same  door  and 
closed  it  with  something  like  a  bang. 

Then  Martin  Coy  turned  and  saw  some  one 
sitting  near  him.  His  eyes  by  long  use  had 
become  habituated  to  the  darkness.  He  arose, 
and  shrank  away  with  a  smothered  groan.  He 
stumbled  and  would  have  fallen  but  for  the  strong 
arm  of  Captain  McCarthy. 

"  I  know'd  it !  I  know'd  it !  It's  a  judgment ! 
Do  you  see  anything  in  that  cheer  there  ? " 

"  Why,  certainly,"  replied  the  Captain.  "  I  see 
Captain  Harvey  Coy,  of  Missouri." 

"  Why,  Harvey  Coy's  as  dead  as  a  door  nail ;  I 
killed  him  myself,"  said  Martin,  shaking  all  over. 

"  Just  feel  of  me,  Martin,  and  see  if  I'm  dead," 
exclaimed  Harvey. 

"  Oh,  why  didn't  you  come  before,  or  write  ? " 
Martin  asked  petulantly. 

"After  I  got  well,  I  hated  everybody  in  the 
South,"  replied  Harvey,  "  and  after  I  got  over  my 
spell  of  hating,  I  didn't  know  how  you  people  would 
treat  a  man  who  had  fought  on  the  other  side." 

Captain  McCarthy  slipped  out  and  left  them, 
and  when  he  came  back  an  hour  after  to  warn 
them  that  the  ceremony  was  about  to  begin,  he 
found  Martin  laughing  and  telling  his  brother 
some  incident  of  his  childhood. 

Ill 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  MARTIN  COY 

After  the  wedding  was  over  and  the  congratula« 
tions  had  been  said,  and  Nora  and  her  husband 
had  been  whirled  away  in  a  carriage  to  catch  the 
midnight  train,  Captain  McCarthy  slapped  Martin 
Coy  on  the  shoulder  and  said  in  a  bantering  tone, — 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  Nora? " 

"  Don't  ask  me  to  talk  about  her,  Cap.  I  git 
a  ketch  in  the  throat  every  time  I  think  about  her. 
Ef  Frank  Flournoy  don't  treat  her  right,  they'll  be 
murder  done  in  this  neighbourhood,  as  certain  as 
the  world." 

This  topic  was  new  to  Captain  McCarthy.  He 
half  closed  his  eyes,  pursed  his  lips,  rocked  back- 
ward and  forward  on  his  feet,  and  then  said 
sharply,  "  We'll  shake  hands  on  that,  Martin." 

But,  really,  the  suggestion  was  the  last  remnant 
of  Martin  Coy's  disordered  fancy  as  it  melted 
away.  Nora  Flournoy  had,  and  still  has,  as  much 
happiness  as  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  woman  in  this 
world,  and  she  earned  it  by  making  others  happy. 
And  Martin  Coy  was  happy,  too,  to  the  day  of  his 
death.  To  the  last  he  insisted  that  folks  never 
could  know  what  real  happiness  is  until,  to  employ 
his  phrase,  "they  had  had  a  whole  passel  of 
trouble." 


119 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF   PRESI- 
DENT  LINCOLN 


I 

ON  the  first  day  of  April,  1863,  young  Francis 
Bethune,  of  Georgia,  sat,  the  picture  of  gloom  and 
dejection,  in  the  reading  room  of  the  most  popular 
hotel  in  the  capital  of  the  Confederacy.  The 
frown  on  his  swarthy  face  —  his  features  had  been 
tanned  by  exposure  to  sun  and  weather  —  was 
deepened  by  the  disordered  condition  of  his  black 
hair,  through  which,  in  perplexity  or  abstraction, 
he  had  clawed  his  fingers  in  all  directions.  Though 
Bethune  was  strikingly  handsome  when  at  his 
best,  the  casual  passer-by  would  hardly  have 
guessed  it,  unless,  indeed,  the  young  man's  singu- 
larly brilliant  eyes  had  invited  a  close  examination. 

As  he  sat  there  dejected  and  unhappy,  he  could 
see  the  Southern  leaders  passing  to  and  fro  before 
him,  —  Robert  Toombs,  impetuous  and  imperious ; 
Ben  Hill,  impressive  and  genial;  Alexander 
Stephens,  pallid  and  frail,  but  with  the  fires  of 
vitality  burning  in  his  eyes.  These  men  were 
Georgians,  and  young  Bethune  knew  that  the 

123 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

mention  of  the  name  of  his  grandfather  to  any 
one  of  them  would  be  sufficient  to  enlist  his  inter- 
est ;  but  he  knew,  also,  that  the  most  powerful  of 
them  could  render  him  no  assistance  in  his  present 
difficulty. 

He  had  begun  a  letter  to  his  grandfather,  but 
had  torn  it  to  shreds  before  he  had  finished  half  a 
sheet.  The  truth  is,  the  young  fellow  knew  that 
his  troubles  were  of  his  own  making,  and  he  felt 
that  he  must  depend  upon  himself.  As  is  ever 
the  case  with  many  young  men,  he  had  been  some- 
what spoiled  in  the  bringing  up.  When  he  was 
small  no  one  was  allowed  to  thwart  him  or  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  his  will,  save  on  those  rare 
occasions  when  his  grandfather,  losing  all  patience, 
gave  him  over  to  a  severe  trouncing.  Thus  the 
spirit  of  independence  which  he  had  developed  early 
was  overlaid  with  perverseness.  He  had  entered 
the  Confederate  service  as  a  Lieutenant  when 
twenty-one  years  old,  had  been  mentioned  in  the 
reports  for  gallantry  on  the  field,  and  later  had 
been  elected  Captain  of  his  company. 

Then,  as  might  have  been  expected,  he  shortly 
found  himself  at  cross  purposes  with  no  less  a 
person  than  his  Colonel,  and  immediately  pro- 
ceeded to  inform  that  officer  what  he  thought  of 
him  in  general  and  in  particular.  He  was  saved 
from  the  worst  results  of  his  insubordination  by  the 

124 


THE   KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

fact  that  the  Colonel  knew  Bethune's  grandfather, 
Meriwether  Clopton,  and  was  very  fond  of  him. 
Instead  of  organising  a  court-martial,  the  Colonel 
allowed  the  young  man  to  resign. 

It  was  a  seasonable  experience,  and  a  sobering 
one.  Francis  Bethune  had  a  great  many  fine 
qualities  to  sustain  him,  and  he  fell  back  on  these 
instead  of  giving  way  to  despair.  But  it  was  a 
trying  time  for  the  young  man.  His  vanity  took 
wings,  and  with  it  nearly  all  his  youthful  folly. 
Yet  it  was  not  his  native  strength  that  saved  him 
at  last,  but  the  thought  of  two  women  and  a  girl. 
One  of  these  was  Sarah  Clopton,  his  aunt,  who 
had  been  the  only  mother  he  had  ever  known; 
another  was  Miss  Puella  Gillum,  a  little  old  maid ; 
and  the  girl  was  Nan  Dorrington.  He  had  good 
reason  to  think  of  these  two  women.  His  aunt 
had  received  him  in  her  arms  a  few  weeks  after 
his  father  and  mother  had  perished  in  an  epidemic 
in  one  of  the  cities  of  the  South  Atlantic  coast, 
and  had  nourished  him  from  his  infancy  with  an 
affection  as  absolute  as  a  mother  could  entertain 
for  her  child.  The  little  old  maid,  Miss  Puella 
Gillum,  was  not  old  enough  to  be  ugly  and 
withered ;  indeed,  young  Bethune  thought  she 
was  very  beautiful.  When  he  was  a  boy  and  after 
he  was  far  in  his  teens,  he  used  to  call  on  Miss 
Puella  at  least  twice  a  week.  Before  he  was 

125 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

twelve,  he  made  these  visits  mainly  to  get  a  cup  of 
Miss  Puella's  tea  and  a  couple  of  her  flaky  biscuits, 
as  white  as  snow;  but  when  he  grew  older  he 
went  for  the  sake  of  spending  an  hour  with  Miss 
Puella,  and  he  always  came  away  stronger  and 
with  a  firmer  purpose  to  do  his  duty  in  whatever 
shape  it  came  to  him. 

Yes  —  there  were  good  reasons  why  he  should 
think  of  these  women,  each  so  different  from  the 
other,  and  both  with  such  high  and  noble  views  of 
life.  But  why  he  should  think  of  Nan  Dorrington, 
that  awful  hoyden,  with  a  feeling  of  friendliness, 
he  could  not  explain.  Why  should  he  ask  himself 
what  Nan  Dorrington  would  think  and  say  when 
she  heard  of  his  latest  performance  on  the  wide 
stage  of  folly  ?  He  had  been  expelled  from  col- 
lege, and  he  had  good  reason  for  knowing  what  Nan 
thought  of  that,  though  she  was  but  twelve  years 
old  at  the  time.  Now  he  was  practically  expelled 
from  the  Army,  and  what  would  Miss  Spindle- 
shanks  think  of  that  ? 

Spindleshanks  !  He  had  good  reason  to  remem- 
ber the  name,  and  to  remember  Nan,  too.  He  had 
returned  from  college,  wearing  the  uniform  of  a 
cadet,  —  he  was  nearly  eighteen  then,  —  and,  as  he 
strutted  along  through  the  one  street  in  the  small 
village  of  Harmony  Grove,  trying  to  maintain  a 
bold  front,  in  spite  of  his  inward  misery,  he  heard 

126 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

some  of  the  native  humorists  laughing  uproar- 
iously. He  was  crossing  toward  the  old  tavern, 
and,  casting  an  eye  behind  him,  he  beheld  Nan 
Dorrington  marching  a  few  paces  in  his  rear, 
carrying  a  small  stick  as  a  gun.  She  had  caught 
the  young  gentleman's  swagger  to  a  T,  and  the 
whole  town  appeared  to  be  enjoying  the  spectacle. 
He  turned  suddenly,  his  face  as  red  as  the  wattles 
of  a  turkey-cock.  His  anger  strangled  him  and 
he  stood  speechless  for  ten  seconds  or  more. 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Spindleshanks  !  "  he  cried  in 
a  loud  voice. 

"  You're  welcome,  Blackleg ! "  Nan  replied  as 
loudly,  and  with  that  she  whacked  him  over  the 
head  with  the  small  stick  she  carried,  and  his 
military  cap  rolled  in  the  dust. 

It  was  all  done  like  snapping  your  fingers,  and 
the  blow  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that 
Bethune  could  only  stare  at  the  child.  His  coun- 
tenance showed  anger,  but  it  also  betrayed  grief 
and  dismay,  and  as  he  stood  there  Nan  re- 
membered him  for  many  a  long  day  with  bitter 
sorrow.  Her  face  was  very  white,  and  not  with 
anger,  as  Bethune  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  his 
way. 

For  many  weeks,  yes,  long  months,  Francis 
Bethune  hated  Nan,  and  Nan  hated  him  just  as 
heartily,  not  because  he  had  called  her  "  spindle- 

127 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

shanks,"  though  that  term  was  all  the  more  dread- 
ful on  account  of  its  truth,  but  because  (as  she 
explained  to  herself)  he  had  made  her  forget  that 
she  was  a  lady. 

But  Bethune  felt,  on  this  April  day,  as  he  sat 
crumpled  up  in  his  chair,  that  everything  like  hate, 
or  envy,  or  vainglory,  had  gone  clean  out  of  his 
mind.  He  thought  about  Nan  as  she  really  was, 
and  as  his  aunt  had  described  her  in  letters — a 
girl  of  wonderful  beauty,  living  in  a  world  of 
romance  all  her  own,  and  yet  remarkably  practi- 
cal, too, — generous,  sensitive,  and  tender-hearted, 
—  a  womanly  nature  pitched  in  a  high  key  in 
which  not  a  false  note  could  be  discerned.  All 
this  might  be  so,  as  his  aunt  had  assured  him  it 
was,  but  still  it  did  not  explain  why,  in  his  extrem- 
ity, his  mind  had  turned  to  Nan  Dorrington. 

However —  He  was  about  to  pursue  somo 
argument  or  other  connected  with  the  subject 
when  his  attention  was  attracted  by  voices  behind 
him.  Apparently  two  men  were  holding  a  sort 
of  half-confidential  conversation.  They  were  not 
whispering,  but  their  voices  were  pitched  in  a  low 
key. 

Bethune  sat  with  his  eyes  closed.  He  had  not 
heard  the  men  come  in,  and  he  could  not  remember 
whether  they  were  sitting  in  the  room  when  he 
arrived  or  not.  Indeed,  he  was  too  miserable  to 

128 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

try  to  remember.  But  what  he  heard  arrested 
his  attention  and  held  it. 

"  A  pass,  you  say  —  through  the  Yankee  lines  ? " 
The  voice  of  the  speaker  was  charged  with  aston- 
ishment. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  other;  "that's  what  I 
said  :  a  pass  through  the  Yankee  lines.  More  than 
that,  it's  signed  by  Old  Abe  himself." 

"  Whew !  "  whistled  the  first  speaker.  "  Doesn't 
that  seem  like  treason's  brewing  on  this  side  ?  If 
there's  somebody  down  here  thick  enough  with  Old 
Abe  to  be  carrying  on  a  correspondence,  don't  you 
think  he  ought  to  be  looked  after?  The  favors 
can't  be  all  on  one  side,  you  know." 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  he,  he,  he !  "  chuckled  the  other. 
He  was  immensely  tickled.  "  Why,  when  it  comes 
to  affairs  of  state  and  matters  of  that  kind,  you  are 
not  knee-high  to  a  duck.  It's  like  the  etiquette  of 
the  Code,"  he  went  on,  his  voice  becoming  more 
formal.  "  The  same  courtesy  that  exists  between 
strangers  must  be  maintained  between  enemies 
about  to  engage  under  the  Code.  And  it  is  so 
with  this  bigger  duel  we  see  going  on  before  our 
eyes.  Why,  there's  —  but  I  can't  talk ;  my  mouth 
is  closed;  I've  said  too  much  now.  If  Albert 
Lamar  had  a  mind  to,  he  could  tell  you  some 
tales  that  would  open  your  eyes." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  there's  a  regular 
129 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

traffic  in  information  and  a  swapping  of  passes  to 
carry  it  on  ? " 

"  Oh,  fiddlesticks !  your  suspicions  jump  farther 
and  quicker  than  a  bull-frog,"  declared  the  other, 
with  a  note  of  contempt  or  disgust  in  his  voice. 
"Take  this  pass  as  an  instance.  What  does  it 
mean  ?  Precisely  this  :  that  a  young  woman  from 
Georgia,  with  kinfolks  in  Maryland,  has  been 
caught  spying.  She  was  arrested  by  Stanton's 
crowd,  and  would  have  been  hanged  if  Old  Abe 
hadn't  taken  her  out  of  Stanton's  hands.  He  had 
her  carried  to  the  White  House." 

"Well,  I  wonder!" 

"  Yes,  sir !  Had  her  carried  to  the  White  House, 
and  either  she's  giving  trouble,  or  Mrs.  Lincoln  is 
tired  of  the  arrangement.  Anyhow,  Old  Abe  wants 
some  Southern  man  to  come  after  her  and  take 
her  through  the  lines.  That's  what  I'm  told,  and 
I  got  it  pretty  straight." 

"  Well,  that  takes  the  rag  off  the  bush ! " 

"  Now,  do  you  know  what  I'd  do  if  I  didn't  have 
a  family  ?  I'd  take  this  pass,  go  right  straight  to 
Washington,  watch  for  a  chance,  and  fetch  Old  Abe 
home  with  me.  That'd  end  the  war,  in  my  judg- 
ment. If  it  didn't,  it  would  make  a  big  man  of 
nie.  It's  a  mighty  fine  chance  for  some  chap 
that  doesn't  give  a  red  whether  school  keeps 
or  not" 

130 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

"  That  description  fits  me  to  a  T,"  said  Francis 
Bethune,  rising  from  his  chair. 

One  of  the  parties  to  the  conversation  arose  also. 
He  was  the  man  who  had  been  dealing  out  the  con- 
fidential information.  "  Well  —  here !  hold  on,  my 
friend !  You  are  a  gentleman,  I  hope." 

Bethune  straightened  himself  and  threw  back  his 
head. 

"  My  label  is  on  my  valise.    Where  is  yours  ? " 

"  Oh,  folderol !  don't  fly  up.  My  name  is  Phil 
Doyle." 

"  Mine  is  Francis  Bethune." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Doyle.  "  I  reckon  I've 
heard  of  you.  If  you  belong  to  the  Bethune 
family,  you  ought  to  know  something  about  the 
Cloptons." 

"  Meriwether  Clopton  is  my  grandfather." 

"  Then  you  can  draw  on  me  for  all  the  good-will 
you  want,  and  good-will  goes  a  long  ways  some- 
times." 

"  I  had  no  intention  of  listening  to  your  conver- 
sation, up  to  a  certain  point,  and  then  I  listened  for 
a  reason  that  I'll  be  glad  to  explain  to  you  at  a 
more  convenient  place  and  time." 

"  In  my  room,  for  instance  ? "  suggested  Doyle. 

"  Certainly,  and  the  present  time  is  as  convenient 
for  me  as  any  other." 

Excusing  himself  to  the  friend  with  whom  he 
131 


ON   THE   WING  OF   OCCASIONS 

had  been  talking,  Mr.  Doyle  led  the  way  to  his 
room.  He  was  evidently  a  man  of  some  impor- 
tance about  the  Confederate  capital,  for  his  apart- 
ments were,  for  that  period,  perfect  in  their 
appointments. 

No  long  time  was  required  for  young  Bethune 
to  explain  to  Mr.  Doyle  his  position  and  his  lack 
of  prospects,  and  the  reasons  why  he  was  willing  to 
undertake  the  adventure  which  had  been  suggested. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  Mr.  Doyle  exclaimed, 
after  the  explanation  had  been  made,  "that  you 
propose  to  make  an  effort  to  fetch  Mr.  Lincoln 
out  of  Washington?" 

"  Certainly ;  what  else  can  I  do  ?  Look  at  my 
position  and  prospects." 

Mr.  Doyle  drummed  on  the  table  as  though  lost 
in  thought.  Bethune's  imagination  conjured  up 
the  face  of  Nan  Dorrington,  and  she  seemed  to 
be  looking  at  him  through  a  vague  mist,  not 
angrily  or  contemptuously,  as  was  her  habit,  but 
with  surprise  and  sorrow. 

At  that  moment  there  came  a  sharp  rap  on  the 
door,  and  Colonel  Albert  Lamar  walked  in. 

"  Excuse  me,  Doyle ;  I  didn't  know  you  had 
company.  Why,  hello,  Bethune!"  he  exclaimed, 
recognising  the  young  man.  "What  are  you 
doing  here?  By  the  by,  did  you  know  — " 
He  paused,  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  care 

132 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT    LINCOLN 

fully  removed  the  ash  with  a  wooden  toothpick, 
and  blew  his  breath  softly  against  the  glowing  end. 
He  evidently  had  something  on  his  mind  which  he 
had  intended  to  speak  of. 

"  Did  I  know  what,  Colonel  ? "  Bethune  asked. 

"We'll  speak  of  it  later.  Tell  me  about  your- 
self; how  you  are  getting  on,  and  everything;  in 
short,  give  me  the  news.  A  man  who  has  had  to 
sit  up  all  night  with  a  newspaper  to  see  if  his 
editorial  articles  have  been  put  in  right  side  up, 
never  knows  the  value  of  news  after  it  is  in  print. 
To  print  it  is  to  kill  it  dead.  Tell  me  something 
fresh;  give  me  the  latest  army  scandal.  Has 
General  been  on  another  jag  ? " 

In  answer  to  this  volley  of  inquiries,  Francis 
Bethune  told  the  story  of  his  own  troubles,  and 
when  he  was  quite  through,  Colonel  Lamar 
looked  at  him  seriously  for  some  moments  and 
then  indulged  in  a  fit  of  hearty  laughter. 

"Some  folks  might  think  you  get  your  touchi- 
ness from  the  Huguenot  strain,  but  you  don't; 
you  get  it  from  your  great-grandfather,  Matthew 
Clopton.  Did  you  ever  hear  the  upshot  of  his 
efforts  to  get  justice  for  Eli  Whitney,  the  inventor 
of  the  cotton-gin  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  my  grandfather  speak  of  it," 
said  Bethune,  laughing. 

"What  was  it?"  asked  Mr.  Doyle. 
133 


ON  THE   WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

"Well,  the  farmers  and  men  with  money  in 
Georgia  and  other  cotton  states  combined  to  rob 
Whitney.  They  managed  to  get  some  of  the 
judges  on  their  side,  and  their  scheme  succeeded 
completely.  Whitney  came  back  to  Georgia  to 
fight  for  his  rights,  and  he  was  taken  up  by  your 
great-grandfather,  who  had  plenty  of  money.  But 
the  courts  were  too  much  for  him.  He  got  hold  of 
one  judge  and  f railed  him  out,  slapped  the  jaws  of 
another,  denounced  a  third  in  a  public  tavern,  and 
then  took  Whitney  home  with  him  to  Shady  Dale, 
where  he  stayed  for  some  time.  Old  Matt  was  a 
war-horse,  so  the  old  folks  say." 

"  He  must  have  been,"  Doyle  assented. 

"  What  was  the  name  of  the  Maryland  lady  one 
of  your  uncles  married  ? "  inquired  Colonel  Lamar, 
in  a  reminiscent  way. 

A  barely  perceptible  smile  crept  into  Bethune's 
countenance.  "  Elise,  she  calls  herself,  but  I  think 
the  entry  in  the  Bible  is  Elizabeth.  She  went  back 
to  Maryland  when  the  war  came  on." 

Colonel  Lamar  nodded  his  head  two  or  three 
times.  "How  old  is  she?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  she  must  be  thirty-five,"  replied  Bethune ; 
"  but  the  last  time  I  saw  her  she  didn't  look  older 
than  twenty-five,  and  her  head  was  just  as  full  of 
romantic  stuff  as  a  schoolgirl's.  She  said  she  wa» 
going  back  home  to  be  a  Confederate  spy." 

134 


THE   KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

"Just  so,"  responded  the  Colonel. 

Thereupon,  as  there  was  a  lull  in  the  conver- 
sation, Mr.  Doyle  informed  Colonel  Lamar  that 
young  Bethune  had  expressed  a  desire  to  go  to 
Washington  in  response  to  the  invitation  implied 
in  the  pass  which  had  been  forwarded  to  Rich- 
mond. 

The  Colonel  looked  at  Bethune  with  wide-open 
eyes,  in  which  there  was  a  twinkle  of  amuse- 
ment. 

"Well,  well!"  he  exclaimed;  "it's  quite  a  co- 
incidence." 

"What  is?" 

"  Why,  the  fact  that  you  should  be  the  man  to 
accept  the  mission." 

"  What  does  it  coincide  with  ? " 

"  With  —  well,  you'll  find  out  when  you  get 
there." 

"  I'm  not  going  after  the  woman,"  said  Bethune. 
"  It  is  my  purpose  to  bring  Mr.  Lincoln  back  with 
me." 

Colonel  Lamar  threw  his  head  back  and  laughed 
heartily. 

"  If  you  do  that,"  he  remarked,  "  you'll  have  a 
name  in  history,  sure  enough.  Old  Matt  Clopton 
might  have  done  it,  or  John  Clark,  or  any  of  the 
chaps  that  flourished  in  Revolutionary  days,  but 
we  don't  measure  up  to  such  things  these  times. 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

We're  about  half  a  head  too  low,  or  we  lack  some 
of  the  muscles  that  hold  a  man's  gizzard  in  the 
right  place." 

"  Well,  I  may  fail,"  said  Bethune,  "  but  I'm  not 
going  with  the  idea  of  failure  in  my  head." 

"  In  that  case,  I'd  advise  you  not  to  go,"  Colonel 
Lamar  suggested. 

But  Bethune  shook  his  head.  He  had  made  up 
his  mind ;  he  had  counted  the  cost,  and  all  that  he 
asked  was  that  he  should  be  provided  with  a  com- 
panion of  his  own  selection. 

"  Now  that  makes  the  business  more  ticklish  than 
it  would  otherwise  be,"  said  Mr.  Doyle.  "  Whom 
would  you  suggest  ? " 

"  Billy  Sanders.  He  belongs  to  Company  B,  of 
the  Third  Georgia." 

"Why,  I  used  to  know  Billy,"  remarked  Colonel 
Lamar,  laughing.  "  He's  what  they  call  a  '  char- 
acter,' and  if  he  sizes  up  with  my  recollection,  he's 
just  the  man  that  I  wouldn't  like  to  take  along  on 
such  an  expedition.  Why,  he  must  be  sixty  years 
old,  and  if  he  hasn't  joined  the  Sons  of  Temperance, 
he's  likely  to  get  you  into  trouble.  The  last  time 
I  saw  him  he  was  sitting  on  the  courthouse  steps 
in  Harmony  Grove,  telling  the  world  at  large  that 
he  was  the  grandson  of  Nancy  Hart." 

"  Can  you  have  him  detailed  for  special  duty  ? " 
Bethune  asked. 

136 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

"  I  can  —  yes,"  replied  Colonel  Lamar,  hesitating; 
"  but  there's  a  pass  for  one  only." 

"  With  Billy  Sanders  along,  there'll  be  no  need 
for  a  pass,"  said  Bethune. 

"  Well,  you'd  better  take  it  along  as  a  matter  of 
form,"  suggested  the  Colonel.  "At  a  pinch  it'll 
save  one  of  you,  but  it  won't  save  both." 

****** 

And  so  the  matter  was  arranged.  Mr.  Billy 
Sanders,  who  had  for  years  been  overseer  at  Shady 
Dale,  as  the  Clopton  plantation  was  called,  was 
overjoyed  to  be  with  Bethune  once  more.  He  had 
entered  the  army  to  be  near  the  young  man,  but 
Bethune's  company  had  been  transferred  to  another 
regiment,  and  so  they  had  been  separated. 

"  Dog  my  cats  ! "  exclaimed  Billy  when  they  met, 
"  it's  like  eatin'  a  slice  of  biled  ham  to  git  a  glimpse 
of  you.  They  tell  me  you've  been  cuttin'  up  jest 
like  you  useter  when  you  was  a  boy.  If  I'd  'a' 
been  your  Colonel,  I'd  'a'  sent  for  Nan  when  you 
got  to  cuttin'  up  —  be  dogged  if  I  wouldn't!  " 

Bethune  blushed  at  the  allusion  to  Nan's  youth- 
ful attack  on  him,  but  he  said  nothing  in  reply. 
He  simply  turned  his  conversation  to  the  adven- 
ture to  which  he  was  committed,  and  canvassed  it 
as  far  as  he  could.  He  had  never  before  consulted 
with  Mr.  Sanders  on  any  matter  more  serious  than 
fishing-rods  and  hooks,  and  traps  for  birds  or  rab- 

137 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

bits,  and  he  was  therefore  surprised  at  the  shrewd 
common  sense  which  the  older  man  possessed. 
Every  suggestion  he  made  was  marked  by  that 
strange  intuition  which  some  men  possess  in 
moments  of  great  excitement  or  peril,  and  which 
is  the  everyday  equipment  of  a  few  minds.  On  a 
large  and  important  field  of  action  and  endeavor 
it  is  called  genius;  in  ordinary  affairs  it  goes  by 
the  name  of  shrewdness,  or  common  sense,  or 
foresight. 

It  would  be  a  very  gratifying  thing  to  make  a 
hero  of  young  Bethune,  with  his  black  hair,  his 
brilliant  eyes,  and  his  swarthy  complexion ;  but  let 
justice  be  done  in  spite  of  appearances.  Mr.  Billy 
Sanders  was  a  very  commonplace-looking  man  at 
best.  He  carried  a  smile  on  his  red  and  rotund 
countenance  that  gave  him  the  appearance  of 
childishness  or  weakness,  —  and  he  was  childish 
and  weak  about  some  things,  —  but  in  general  this 
bland  and  innocuous  smile  was  deceitful.  It  was 
as  complete  a  mask,  indeed,  as  ever  man  wore. 
There  was  an  innocent  stare  in  the  mild  blue  eyes 
and  a  general  air  of  helplessness  about  the  man 
that  went  far  to  confirm  the  smile. 

The  most  cunning  reader  of  character  would  have 
placed  Mr.  Billy  Sanders  in  the  category  of  weak- 
minded  people  —  a  helpless  countryman,  ready  to 
be  victimised  or  imposed  upon  by  any  chance  comer 

138 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

But  in  fact,  Mr.  Sanders  was  a  man  of  far  different 
mould  and  mettle.  He  was  old  enough  to  be  a 
good  judge  of  human  nature,  and  the  fact  that  he 
was  born  and  bred  in  the  country,  and  had  little  or 
no  book  education,  had  not  interfered  a  particle 
with  the  growth  and  development  of  those  ele- 
mental qualities  which  are  the  basis  and  not  the 
result  of  book  education.  He  had,  as  it  were,  good 
blood  and  strong  bones.  His  grandmother  was  as 
perfect  a  type  of  the  American  heroine  as  has  ever 
been  seen,  and  "  Old  Bullion  "  Benton  was  named 
after  one  of  his  great  uncles,  Thomas  Hart.  One 
who  knew  Mr.  Sanders  well  remarked  of  him : 
"  He  looks  like  a  busted  bank,  don't  he  ?  —  all 
buildin'  and  no  assets.  Well,  don't  fool  yourself. 
There  ain't  a  day  in  the  year,  nor  an  hour  in  the 
day,  when  he  ain't  on  a  specie  basis." 

And  yet  it  was  not  on  account  of  these  things 
that  young  Bethune  selected  Mr.  Sanders  to  be  his 
comrade  in  his  projected  adventure.  His  main 
reason  was  that  he  had  known  Mr.  Sanders  and 
had  been  familiar  with  him  all  his  life.  He  knew 
that  his  old  friend  could  be  depended  on. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  young  Bethune  should 
receive  the  pay  of  a  Captain  while  detailed  for 
special  service,  on  learning  which  Mr.  Billy  San- 
ders remarked  with  a  broad  grin,  "You'll  be  the 
Cap'n  and  I'll  be  the  Commissary."  It  was  when 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

they  met  with  Mr.  Doyle  to  lay  out  a  definite  pro- 
gramme that  the  true  character  of  Mr.  Sanders 
made  itself  apparent.  Doyle  had  mapped  out  'he 
whole  route  in  the  most  careful  manner,  and  had 
reproduced  it  with  the  accuracy  of  an  engineer  or 
an  architect.  Mr.  Sanders  put  on  his  spectacles, 
examined  it  patiently,  and  asked  a  number  of  ques- 
tions, which  were  glibly  answered.  Then,  looking 
over  his  glasses  at  Mr.  Doyle,  he  inquired,  — 

"Are  you  comin'  along  wi'  us  to  keep  us  on  this 
track?" 

"  Well,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Doyle,  somewhat  taken 
aback.  "  There's  no  necessity  for  that." 

"Then  this  conflutement,"  Mr.  Sanders  remarked, 
holding  the  tracing  up  and  smiling  benevolently, 
"  ain't  wuth  shucks.  The  paper's  so  stiff  an'  onruiy 
you  can't  even  light  your  pipe  wi'  it."  With  that 
he  crumpled  the  document  in  his  fist  and  dropped 
it  in  a  wooden  cuspidor  filled  with  sand  and  cigar 
stumps. 

"  Well,  I'll  be !  "  said  Mr.  Doyle  under  his 

breath. 

"  Me  too  —  me  too  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders, 
cheerfully.  "I'm  truly  glad  you  said  the  word; 
it  helps  me  more'n  it  does  you,  I  reckon."  He 
paused  and  grew  a  trifle  serious,  though  he  still 
smiled.  "  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  Colonel,"  he  went 
on,  "  if  you  was  to  come  down  yan-way  where  I 

140 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

live  at,  an'  lay  off  to  hunt  wild  turkeys,  an'  I  was 
to  come  an'  fetch  you  a  map  of  the  road  you  oughter 
f oiler,  what'd  be  the  state  an'  feelin's  of  your  senti- 
ments ?  I'll  allow  the  cases  ain't  the  same,  but 
you'd  jest  as  well  try  to  map  out  the  road  a  bird'll 
foller  when  he  gits  on  the  wing.  Every  time  he 
sees  a  hawk  or  hears  a  gun  he'll  change  his 
course." 

Bethune,  who  had  been  somewhat  vexed  at  the 
cavalier  way  in  which  Mr.  Sanders  had  disposed 
of  the  map,  saw  at  once  that  the  reasoning  was 
sound.  Mr.  Doyle  seemed  to  see  it,  too.  At  any 
rate,  he  assented  to  the  proposition  without  argu- 
ment, and  after  some  further  conversation  in  regard 
to  the  necessary  funds,  of  which  he  appeared  to 
have  an  abundant  supply,  he  took  his  leave.  Later, 
when  he  saw  Bethune  alone,  he  took  occasion  to 
pay  a  passing  tribute  to  the  good  sense  of  Mr. 
Billy  Sanders.  And  it  is  a  fact  that,  while  Mr. 
Sanders  would  have  been  placed  in  the  illiterate 
class  by  a  census-taker,  he  had  more  real  know- 
ledge and  native  sagacity  than  one-half  the  people 
we  meet  every  day.  Some  such  concession  Mr. 
Doyle  made  to  young  Bethune. 

But  Mr.  Sanders  insisted  on  having  his  sus- 
picions of  Mr.  Doyle.  It  was  in  vain  that  Bethune 
pointed  out  how  he  had  solicited  the  adventure. 
"That's  as  may  be,"  Mr.  Sanders  remarked 

141 


ON   THE   WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

"  Albert  Lamar  don't  know  enough  about  him  to 
tell  us  what  he's  up  to.  But  don't  fret ;  it'll  pop 
up  an'  fly  out,  an'  when  it  does  I'll  put  my  finger 
on  it  an'  let  you  tell  it  howdye.  I  ain't  afeard  of 
his  capers  any  more'n  if  he  was  a  boss,  but  I  want 
to  know  what's  behind  all  this  correspondin*  wi' 
the  common  enemy,  as  you  may  say." 

Mr.  Doyle  tried  hard  to  find  out  by  which  route 
they  proposed  to  reach  Washington,  but  Mr.  San- 
ders hadn't  made  up  his  mind,  and  refused  flatly 
to  decide  until  after  they  had  left  Richmond. 
"The  reason  I  ask,"  Mr.  Doyle  explained,  "is 
because  I  have  friends  who  could  help  you  along, 
and  give  you  assistance  at  a  pinch." 

This  was  reasonable  enough,  but  it  had  no  effect 
on  Mr.  Sanders,  who  remarked  that  there  couldn't 
be  two  congresses  in  the  same  town  at  the  same 
time,  and  he  informed  Mr.  Doyle  that  the  Bethune 
congress  (Billy  Sanders,  doorkeeper)  would  hold 
its  first  session  in  another  county. 

When  everything  was  ready  for  their  departure, 
Mr.  Doyle  was  informed  that  they  would  leave  the 
next  morning  between  midnight  and  dawn.  Shortly 
after  supper  he  sought  them  out  and  confided  to 
their  care  a  sealed  document,  with  instructions  how 
and  where  to  deliver  it.  Later,  Colonel  Albert 
Lamar  saw  them,  and  when  Bethune  told  him 
about  the  sealed  document,  he  leaned  back  in  hi* 

142 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

chair,  looked  at  the  ceiling  and  smoked  awhile  in 
silence.     Finally  he  remarked :  — 

"  I've  tried  to  get  under  the  cover  with  Doyle, 
but  I  can't.  He's  a  head  clerk  in  one  of  the 
departments,  but  I  can't  find  out  where  he  came 
from  nor  how  he  got  in.  But  he's  in,  and  nobody 
seems  to  know  anything  about  him." 

"  As  sure  as  you're  born  there's  something  dead 
up  the  creek,"  Mr.  Sanders  declared. 

"  Well,  on  your  way  to  Washington,  go  to  New 
York,"  said  Colonel  Lamar,  "  put  up  at  the  New 
York  Hotel,  and  make  it  a  point  to  bow  to  the  head 
waiter ;  ask  him  when  he  comes  to  you  if  his  name 
is  McCarthy,  then  when  opportunity  offers  turn  the 
document  over  to  him.  He'll  know  precisely  what 
to  do." 

"The  head  waiter! "  exclaimed  Bethune,  laughing. 

"  Yes ;  you  won't  laugh  at  him  when  you  come 
to  know  him.  He's  an  Irishman." 

"  Hadn't  we  better  burn  the  thing  now  an'  be 
done  wi'  it?"  asked  Mr.  Sanders. 

"  No,"  replied  the  Colonel ;  "  if  the  paper's  what 
I  think  it  is,  it  won't  hurt  you  to  have  it  on  you 
should  you  chance  to  be  arrested." 

****** 

Now,  when  Francis  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders 
were  ready  to  retire,  that  is  to  say,  when  Mr.  Billy 
Sanders  was  on  the  point  of  putting  a  red  flannel 

J43 


ON  THE   WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

cap  over  his  head  to  keep  the  bald  spot  from 
catching  cold,  there  came  a  gentle  tap  on  the  door, 
a  tiny  tap,  as  if  some  one  had  knocked  with  a 
pencil  or  a  pipe  stem.  As  the  two  made  no 
response,  but  sat  listening,  the  tap  was  repeated 
as  gently  as  before.  Whereupon  Bethune  opened 
the  door,  and  saw  a  big,  overgrown  boy  standing 
there,  smiling  as  though  he  were  embarrassed. 
He  seemed  to  be  younger  than  Bethune  by  a  year 
or  two,  and  the  freshness  and  innocence  of  a 
country  life  beamed  on  his  handsome  countenance 
and  sparkled  in  his  black  eyes.  He  handed 
Bethune  a  note  pencilled  on  a  piece  of  brown 
writing-paper,  the  kind  fashionable  in  the  Con- 
federacy. It  read:  — 

"  DEAR  BETHUNE  :  The  bearer  of  this  is  Mr.  John  Oma- 
hundro,  a  good  friend  of  mine.  He  calls  at  my  request,  and 
you  may  depend  on  him  as  you  would  on  me.  Luck  go  with 

you !  "  ALBERT  R.  LAMAR." 

While  Bethune  was  reading  this  short  note, 
Omahundro,  while  waiting  for  an  invitation,  en- 
tered the  room,  closed  the  door  behind  him  and, 
after  bowing  to  Mr.  Billy  Sanders,  seated  himself 
in  a  chair.  He  was  evidently  not  fond  of  con- 
ventions and  formalities. 

"  I  saw  the  Colonel  a  little  while  ago,"  he  said, 
after  his  name  and  credentials  had  been  given  to 

144 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

Mr.  Sanders,  "and  he  asked  me  to  come  up  and 
have  a  talk  with  you.  He  says  you're  going  into 
the  North  country  on  account  of  some  business 
of  a  man  named  Doyle." 

"That  is  what  Mr.  Doyle  thinks,"  replied 
Bethune. 

"  Oh,  I  see !  "  remarked  Omahundro.  "  Well, 
that  makes  me  feel  better.  I  don't  know  what 
you're  up  to,  and  I  don't  want  to  know ;  but  I  think 
I  know  what  this  man  Doyle  is  up  to,  and  I'll  have 
him  run  to  ground  long  before  you  get  back.  I 
saw  Colonel  Lamar  just  now,  and  says  I,  'Colonel, 
who's  going  to  leave  this  hotel  between  midnight 
and  day  ? '  The  Colonel  laughed  and  said  it'd  be 
so  after  a  while  that  cold  chills  would  run  up  and 
down  his  back  every  time  he  saw  me.  '  Who  told 
you  about  it  ? '  says  he.  '  Nobody,'  says  I,  '  but  I 
heard  a  man  drop  a  mighty  loud  hint  awhile  ago. 
It's  a  wonder  you  didn't  hear  the  echo.  I  heard 
him  tell  the  night  clerk  to  wake  him  up  if  the  men 
in  seventy-eight  came  down  any  time  between 
midnight  and  day.  He  said  they  were  friends  of 
his  and  he  wanted  to  tell  'em  good-by,  and  then 
he  took  the  clerk  off  to  one  side  and  the  two  of 
'em  jabbered  quite  a  whet  together.'  'That  was 
our  friend  Doyle,'  says  the  Colonel.  'You've 
called  the  turn,  color,  and  spot,'  says  I." 

"  Well,  it  was  mighty  funny  to  see  the  Colonel 
145 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

roll  the  end  of  his  cigar  in  his  mouth.  Then, 
'Come  with  me,'  he  says.  He  went  behind  the 
counter  and  I  followed  along.  He  says  to  the 
clerk,  'Oscar,  is  Doyle  a  particular  friend  of 
yours  ? '  '  Not  as  you  may  say  particular,'  says 
Oscar.  'Well,'  says  the  Colonel,  'the  men  in 
seventy-eight  are  going  away  to-night  on  impor- 
tant business.  They're  not  Doyle's  friends,  and 
there's  no  reason  in  the  world  why  he  should  be 
roused  out  of  bed  when  they  come  down.'  Oscar 
seemed  to  be  stumped  at  this,  and  he  looked  as  if 
he  was  trying  to  find  some  way  out.  So  I  put  in. 
Says  I,  '  If  they  come  down  before  midnight,  you 
don't  have  to  roust  your  friend  out,  do  you  ? '  His 
face  cleared  up  at  this,  and  he  says,  '  No,  I  don't, 
for  I  don't  take  charge  of  the  desk  till  midnight.' 

"So  there  you  are,"  Omahundro  went  on. 
"  Colonel  Lamar  has  paid  your  bill.  I  am  going 
a  piece  of  the  way  myself,  and  I  have  two  extra 
horses  for  Jeb  Stuart's  use.  If  you  say  the  word, 
I'll  give  you  a  lift  as  far  as  I  am  going  on  horse- 
back, and  then  I'll  put  you  in  touch  with  some  of 
Mosby's  men.  But  to  go  with  me  you  must  start 
now." 

Mr.  Billy  Sanders  sighed,  turned  and  looked  at 
the  bed  on  which  he  was  sitting  and  patted  the 
mattress  caressingly.  "  She  feels  as  nice  as  a  fat 
gal  at  camp-meeting,"  he  remarked. 

146 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

"You'd  better  hug  the  pillow,  anyhow,"  said 
Omahundro,  laughing.  "  It'll  be  some  days  before 
you'll  lay  your  head  on  as  plump  a  one."  This 
Mr.  Sanders  proceeded  to  do.  He  took  the  pillow 
in  his  arms  and  fondled  it  as  a  mother  would 
fondle  a  baby,  to  the  great  amusement  of  his  com- 
panions. 

In  twenty  minutes  the  party  had  passed  out  of 
the  hotel.  On  the  sidewalk  they  met  Colonel 
Lamar,  bade  him  good-by,  went  to  a  livery  stable 
near  at  hand,  and  in  a  very  short  time  were  leav- 
ing Richmond  behind  them  as  they  journeyed 
toward  the  front.  Two  circumstances  favoured 
them :  the  weather  was  very  cold  for  the  time  of 
year,  —  so  cold,  indeed,  that  occasionally  they  dis- 
mounted and  ran  along  by  the  side  of  their  horses 
to  keep  their  feet  warm,  —  and  the  concentration 
of  Federal  and  Confederate  troops  was  taking  the 
shape  that  finally  led  to  the  battles  of  Chancellors- 
ville  and  Fredericksburg.  Their  course  was  in  a 
northwesterly  direction  after  they  left  the  city. 

Omahundro  parted  with  Bethune  and  Mr.  San- 
ders, after  making  an  arrangement  whereby  they 
were  enabled  to  purchase  two  horses  which  had 
seen  considerable  service.  In  fact,  the  animals 
had  been  turned  out  to  die,  but  a  thrifty  citizen 
had  picked  them  up  and  attended  to  their  wants  so 
successfully  that  they  showed  no  evidence  of  the 

H7 


ON  THE  WING  OF   OCCASIONS 

hard  times  they  had  when  they  went  with  Stuart 
around  McClellan's  army. 

Bethune  and  Sanders  made  their  way  to  War- 
renton,  then  to  Thoroughfare  Gap,  and  thence 
into  what  was  known  as  Mosby's  Confederacy  ; 
then  through  Ashby's  Gap  to  Berryville,  where 
they  were  fortunate  enough  to  meet  up  with  three 
men  belonging  to  Captain  McNeill's  Rangers,  who 
had  been  south  with  a  squad  of  prisoners.  Mc- 
Neill's  company  operated  to  some  extent  in  Hamp- 
shire County,  West  Virginia,  and  it  was  to  this 
county  the  three  scouts  were  bound. 

Now,  Mr.  Billy  Sanders  had  from  the  first 
insisted  that  they  should  make  their  way  to  New 
York  by  the  Western  route.  He  had  good  reason 
for  this.  Some  of  the  Harts  who  used  to  live  in 
Kentucky  had  moved  to  Indiana,  and  just  previ- 
ous to  the  war  Mr.  Sanders  had  made  a  visit  to 
that  state.  He  insisted  that  the  Hoosiers  talked 
just  like  the  Georgians  —  "onless,  maybe,  they 
talk  a  leetle  more  wi'  their  nose  than  we-all  do." 
His  programme  was  to  go  to  Ohio,  take  an  east- 
bound  train,  and  make  it  known  to  all  who  were 
willing  to  listen  to  him  that  he  was  going  to  Wash- 
ington with  his  son  (Bethune  being  the  son)  who 
had  been  ill  treated  by  his  superiors  because  he 
couldn't  show  the  advance  guard  of  the  Fourth 
Indiana  how  to  wade  through  a  ford  on  a  creek  in 

148 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

the  state  of  Tennessee  without  drawing  the  fire  of 
Forrest's  mounted  infantry  on  the  opposite  bank, 
while  all  the  time  the  water  was  running  like  a 
mill  sluice  with  both  gates  open.  Yes,  sirs  !  And 
Mr.  Hart  (the  same  being  Mr.  Billy  Sanders's 
middle  name)  was  going  right  to  Washington  to 
lay  the  case  before  Aberham  Lincoln,  who  would 
straighten  out  the  tangle,  not  only  because  he  was 
a  just  man,  but  because  the  Hart  family  was  as 
good  as  any  family  in  Injianny,  or  in  Kaintuck,  for 
that  matter. 

It  was  a  very  well-considered  programme,  and 
it  was  based  on  the  fact  that  Mr.  Sanders  had  a 
secret  admiration  for  Abraham  Lincoln.  He  had 
read  in  the  papers  about  the  President's  humble 
beginnings,  how  he  studied  his  books  by  a  light- 
wood  knot  fire,  and  how  he  had  split  rails  for  a 
livelihood  at  one  period  of  his  career.  A  hundred 
times  he  had  remarked  to  thoughtless  persons  who 
were  abusing  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  He  may  be  wrong  in 
his  idees,  but  I'll  bet  you  a  thrip  to  a  gingercake 
that  his  heart's  in  the  right  place."  Being  a  plain, 
blunt  man,  Mr.  Sanders  made  no  bones  about  giv- 
ing out  this  sentiment;  it  was  his  boast,  indeed, 
that  he  was  ready  to  "  hand  around  "  his  views  in 
any  company,  and  those  who  didn't  like  'em  could 
lump  'em. 

Mr.  Sanders's  programme,  to  employ  his  own 
149 


ON   THE   WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

expression,  "worked  without  a  bobble."  This  was 
due  mainly  to  the  fact  that  the  year  1863  opened 
with  very  gloomy  promises  for  the  Union  cause. 
The  people  of  the  North  were  not  only  gloomy, 
but  indignant.  Criticism  of  the  administration 
was  general,  and  was  marked  by  a  fury  which  no 
one  but  Mr.  Lincoln  would  have  been  able  to 
withstand.  The  cartoonists  were  especially  fierce. 
One  of  the  cartoons  that  caught  the  eye  of  Be- 
thune  as  they  were  journeying  by  train  to  the 
East  was  the  figure  of  indignant  Columbia  point- 
ing scornfully  at  the  President  and  advising  him 
to  go  tell  his  jokes  elsewhere  than  the  White 
House.  The  periodical  bore  a  January  date,  but 
some  one  had  torn  the  page  away  and  tacked  it 
up  in  the  smoking-car,  where  it  had  remained. 

The  Abolitionists  had  not  been  much  mollified 
by  the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  claiming  that  it 
had  been  delayed  too  long  to  produce  any  favour- 
able results  on  the  course  of  the  war.  On  the 
other  hand,  those  who  were  fighting  for  the  Union 
itself,  without  knowing  or  caring  much  about 
slavery  either  as  a  political  or  a  moral  question, 
were  not  at  all  pleased  with  what  seemed  to  be 
the  surrender  of  Mr.  Lincoln  to  an  extreme  fac- 
tion, and  the  slave  owners  in  the  border  states 
were  denouncing  what  they  described  as  high- 
handed robbery. 

150 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

It  should  be  said  of  Mr.  Billy  Sanders  that  his 
spirits  rose  perceptibly  whenever  there  was  danger 
to  be  faced,  or  whenever  there  was  trouble  in  the 
air.  He  walked  into  the  office  of  the  New 
York  Hotel,  humming  his  favourite  air  of  "  Money 
Musk."  He  had  begun  to  call  Bethune  "  Honey," 
and  it  was  all  that  the  young  man  could  do  to 
keep  his  face  straight  when  Mr.  Sanders  sol- 
emnly undertook  to  play  the  part  of  a  fond 
father. 

On  their  first  appearance  at  the  hotel,  the  clerk 
held  them  in  parley  a  little  longer  than  was  neces- 
sary. The  house  was  practically  full,  he  said,  and 
he  had  nothing  but  a  very  ordinary  room  on  the 
third  floor.  If  they  would  wait  until  after  dinner, 
perhaps  he  could  accommodate  them  then.  Mr. 
Sanders,  for  his  part,  said  any  kind  of  a  room 
would  suit  him,  provided  he  didn't  have  to  roost 
on  a  pole  like  a  chicken,  or  squat  flat  on  the 
ground  like  a  puddle-duck ;  still,  his  son  had  been 
sleeping  out  nights  in  the  war,  and  he  wanted  the 
best  of  everything  that  was  to  be  had  —  not  for 
himself,  mind  you,  but  for  his  son.  Then  he 
turned  to  Bethune,  — 

"  Honey,  didn't  you  say  Mack  was  stoppin'  at 
this  tavern  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Bethune. 

"  Well,  if  we  could  see  Mack,  we'd  go  like  we 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

was  greased.  Do  you  know  Mack  ?  "  he  asked  the 
clerk. 

"  There  are  so  many  Macks,  you  know.  Which 
Mack  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"A  man  named  McCarthy.  We  were  recom- 
mended to  him,"  replied  Bethune  at  a  venture. 

The  clerk  drummed  carelessly  on  the  counter 
while  you  could  count  ten.  "  I  know  a  dozen 
McCarthys,"  he  said ;  "  but,  anyhow,  Mack  or 
no  Mack,  I'll  assign  you  to  a  fairly  comfortable 
room.  It  has  been  spoken  for,  and  you  may  have 
to  exchange  it  for  another." 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Sanders;  "we  ain't  no- 
ways nice  'bout  small  matters.  If  there  ain't  no 
bars  'cross  the  winder  an'  the  key's  on  the  inside, 
we'll  manage  to  worry  along.  Put  our  names 
4own,  Honey.  Some  gal  might  come  along  an' 
see  'em  an'  want  to  swap  letters." 

So  Bethune  wrote  "  William  Hart,  Salem,  Indi- 
ana," and  under  it  "  Francis  M.  Hart,"  with  ditto 
marks  under  the  town  and  state.  "  Be  shore  you 
git  it  right,  Honey.  I've  been  so  shook  up  wi'  the 
kyars,  an'  the  racket,  that  if  a  man  was  to  ax  me 
right  sudden  what  my  name  is,  I'm  afeard  I  couldn't 
tell  him." 

The  clerk  smiled  patronisingly,  signalled  a  porter, 
and  the  two  travellers  were  assigned  to  a  room  on 
the  third  floor  —  the  very  one,  by  the  way,  in  which 

ica 


THE   KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

Colonel  Flournoy  had  his  interview  with  Mr.  Bar- 
num  of  the  secret  service. 

"Tell  'em  to  ring  the  bell  good  an'  hard 
when  dinner's  ready,"  said  Mr.  Sanders  to  the 
porter.  "We'll  not  keep  'em  waitin'.  What 
primpin'  I've  got  to  do  will  be  done  in  short 
order." 

"Dinner  will  be  ready  in  half  an  hour,  sir," 
replied  the  porter,  smiling  brightly.  "The  din- 
ing room  is  on  the  floor  below.  You  walk  down 
the  stairway  and  turn  to  the  left." 

He  went  out,  closing  the  door  gently.  "A  right 
peart  chap,"  remarked  Mr.  Sanders.  Then  there 
came  a  quick,  firm  tap  on  the  inside  door.  "  Come 
right  in,"  said  Mr.  Sanders,  heartily.  Following 
the  invitation,  a  tall  man,  arrayed  in  evening  dress, 
stepped  into  the  room.  His  face  was  smooth- 
shaven  ;  his  iron-grey  hair  combed  away  from  his 
forehead  gave  a  pleasing  softness  to  features  that 
would  have  otherwise  been  marked  by  sternness, 
especially  at  this  moment  when  they  wore  a  frown 
of  irritation  or  perplexity.  Nevertheless,  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  newcomer  was  both  striking  and 
attractive. 

"  Why,  howdy  ? "  said  Mr.  Sanders.  "  If  I  ain't 
seed  you  some'r's,  I'm  mighty  much  mistaken. 
Wait!  don't  tell  me.  I've  mighty  nigh  forgot  my 
own  name,  but  I  ain't  forgot  your  face.  Hold  on ! 


ON  THE   WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

did  you  ever  so  much  as  hear  of  a  place  called 
Shady  Dale  ?  " 

"  In  what  state,  for  instance  ? " 

"  Well,  in  Injianny,  for  instance." 

The  newcomer  made  no  reply  to  the  question, 
but  his  countenance  cleared  up,  and  a  faint  smile 
hovered  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  "  I  heard 
a  rumour  that  two  gentlemen  had  been  commended 
to  a  man  named  McCarthy." 

"The  head  waiter  of  this  hotel,"  explained 
Bethune. 

"The  head  waiter  of  this  hotel,"  assented  the 
newcomer.  "  I  am  the  man." 

"  Well,  the  gallopin'  Jerushy ! "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Sanders.  "Why,  you  look  like  you  jest  come 
from  a  ball.  Honey,"  he  went  on,  turning  to 
Bethune,  "don't  you  mind  the  time  when  a 
chap  come  to  the  Grove  in  a  rig  like  that  and  the 
boys  run  him  down  an'  ketch'd  him  an'  rode  him 
on  a  rail?" 

"Where  was  that? "  inquired  Captain  McCarthy. 

"  All  in  the  state  of  Injianny,  close  to  Salem," 
replied  Mr.  Sanders.  "  You  can't  run  me  out  of 
Injianny  to  save  your  life." 

"  Good  !  "  cried  the  head  waiter.  "  And  now, 
who  commended  you  to  me  ? "  he  inquired,  lower 
ing  his  voice. 

"  Albert  Lamar,"  replied  Bethune. 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

"A  fine  man  that  —  a  fine  man!"  exclaimed 
McCarthy. 

It  required  only  a  few  words  to  explain  their 
reasons  for  seeing  the  head  waiter.  Bethune  gave 
him  the  despatch  which  Mr.  Doyle  had  intrusted 
to  his  care. 

"  This  can  wait  until  after  dinner,"  said  the  head 
waiter.  "  I'll  join  you  here  about  three  o'clock." 

"  I'm  mighty  glad  to  hear  you  mention  dinner," 
remarked  Mr.  Sanders,  gratefully. 

"  It  is  ready  now,"  said  the  other.  "  Shall  I 
have  it  sent  to  you  ?  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  protested  Mr.  Sanders.  "  I  don't 
want  to  be  penned  up  wi'  my  vittles.  When  I'm 
hongry  I  want  elbow  room." 

"Very  well,"  assented  the  head  waiter,  some- 
what dubiously.  "You'll  have  to  be  careful.  This 
house  is  under  suspicion ;  there  are  a  number  of 
sharp-eyed  Government  detectives  constantly  com- 
ing and  going.  You  are  sure,  before  dinner  is 
over,  to  fall  into  conversation  with  one  or  more  of 
them.  You'll  have  to  watch  your  tongues.  The 
smallest  slip  will  be  enough.  Should  I  or  the 
waiter  who  has  charge  of  your  table  change  your 
glass  of  water,  it  will  be  a  warning  to  be  very 
guarded.  Should  the  waiter  inquire  if  you  would 
like  a  dish  of  fried  spring  onions,  you  will  know 
that  some  one  within  sound  of  your  voice  is  very 

155 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

dangerous.  You  may  come  down  when  you're 
ready." 

"  Say,  Colonel,"  cried  Mr.  Sanders,  as  the  head 
waiter  was  entering  the  adjoining  room,  "  about 
them  inguns ;  I'd  like  a  mess  on  'em,  whether  the 
Boogers  ketch  us  or  not." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  replied  McCarthy,  gravely. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  door  he  paused,  glanced 
at  himself  in  the  mirror,  and  shook  his  head  doubt- 
fully. "  The  lad  is  circumspect,  but  I'm  afraid 
the  old  chap  is  a  fool." 

In  no  long  time  they  were  in  the  dining  room,  and 
the  head  waiter  escorted  them  to  the  first  table  on  the 
left  of  the  entrance,  where  they  would  be  directly  un- 
der his  observation.  It  was  with  some  difficulty  that 
either  Bethune  or  Mr.  Sanders  recognised  in  this 
obsequious,  suave,  and  smiling  head  waiter  the  stern 
and  stiff  person  with  whom  they  had  just  had  an  in- 
terview. There  was  no  other  person  at  the  table,  but 
presently  two  others  came  in,  one  a  thin  young  man 
with  spectacles,  who  had  the  air  of  a  divinity  student, 
the  other  a  tall  man  with  Burnside  whiskers.  Mr. 
Sanders  was  sitting  at  one  end  of  the  table  next 
the  wall.  Bethune  was  on  his  left  and  the  divinity 
student  was  on  his  right.  At  the  other  end  of 
the  table  sat  a  small  man  with  grey  mustache  and 
goatee. 

The  head  waiter  came  forward  with  his  ready 
156 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

napkin,  brushed  off  an  imaginary  crumb  at  Mr. 
Sanders's  elbow,  picked  up  the  glass  of  water,  and 
substituted  for  it  another  glass  that  sat  on  the 
window  ledge. 

"  Have  you  given  your  order,  sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  reckon  I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Sanders,  "  but  it's 
been  so  long  ago  it  seems  like  a  dream." 

"  Would  you  like  a  dish  of  fried  onions,  sir  ? 
They  are  very  fresh  and  tender." 

"  Would  I  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders.  "  Well, 
I'd  thank  you  might'ly  to  try  me  —  I  ain't  had  a 
mess  sence  I  left  the  neighbourhood  of  Salem." 

The  man  who  had  the  appearance  of  a  divinity 
student  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  balanced  his 
fork  on  the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand.  "  Salem  — 
Salem,"  he  said ;  "  pardon  me,  sir,  but  where  is 
Salem?" 

"Well,  ef  they  ain't  been  no  harrycane  nor 
yethquake,  Salem  is  in  the  state  of  Injianny." 

"Why,  certainly — to  be  sure!  What  am  I 
thinking  about  ? "  sighed  the  stranger. 

"Reely,  I  couldn't  tell  you,"  replied  Mr.  San- 
ders. 

The  other  smiled  as  he  wiped  his  glasses.  "  Well, 
I  should  have  known  about  Salem,  for  I  went  to 
college  with  a  relative  of  mine  from  that  town.  In 
fact,  I  think  I  have  a  number  of  relatives  in 
Salem." 

157 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  What's  the  name  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Sanders,  in 
his  matter-of-fact  way. 

"Webb." 

"  When  did  they  move  there  ?  " 

"  Three  or  four  years  ago,  I  think." 

"  Sam  Webb  was  the  chap  you  went  to  college 
wi'?" 

"  Yes,"  the  other  assented. 

"  What  kin  was  you  to  him  ? " 

"Cousin  —  first  cousin." 

At  this  Mr.  Sanders  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  laughed  until  he  was  red  in  the  face. 

"  What's  the  joke  ? "  inquired  the  man  who 
looked  like  a  divinity  student. 

"  Well,  if  I  ain't  got  old  Granny  Webb  on  the 
hooks,  I  don't  want  a  cent ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  San- 
ders with  a  fresh  burst  of  laughter.  "  Here  she's 
been  tellin'  me  for  long  years  that  there  ain't  a 
runt  in  the  Webb  family,  on  narry  side,  for  gen- 
erations, an*  I  ain't  no  more'n  got  to  town  before 
the  little  fust  cousin  runs  under  my  hand  same  as 
a  tame  rat." 

The  hit  was  so  palpable  and  so  unexpected  that 
even  Bethune  joined  in  the  roar  that  came  from 
the  others  around  the  table.  The  first  cousin 
laughed,  too,  but  it  was  plain  to  see  that  he  was 
more  irritated  than  pleased. 

•  "  But  don't  you  fret,  my  friend.     Steve  Douglas 
158 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

is  a  runt,  but  he's  a  mighty  big  man,  all  the  same. 
I  was  a  Douglas  man  before  the  war,  but  after 
Old  Abe  up'd  an'  said  he  was  for  the  Union, 
nigger  or  no  nigger,  why,  then  I  was  a  Lincoln 
man." 

"And  yet,"  said  the  first  cousin,  persuasively, 
"  they  say  there  are  a  good  many  Southern  sym- 
pathisers around  and  about  in  places." 

"  I  reckon  that's  so,"  said  Mr.  Sanders.  "  My 
farm  has  been  cleared  a  good  many  year,  but 
hardly  a  spring  passes  but  what  I  have  to  kill  a 
snake  or  two." 

Bethune  noticed  that  a  great  change  had  come 
over  the  head  waiter.  He  was  fairly  beaming 
on  the  guests  as  they  came  and  went.  In  fact, 
he  was  radiant.  His  eyes  sparkled  and  his  whole 
manner  showed  that  he  was  a  well-pleased  man. 
As  for  Bethune,  he  was  astonished  at  the  ease  with 
which  Mr.  Sanders  had  handled  a  dangerous  adver- 
sary. He  had  known  that  his  companion  possessed 
a  courage  that  was  absolutely  invincible,  but  now 
Mr.  Sanders  was  displaying  a  new  and  a  rarer 
quality. 

The  stranger  made  no  more  remarks,  but  ad- 
dressed himself  to  his  dinner  and  hurried  through 
it.  As  he  was  rising  from  the  table,  Mr.  Sanders 
took  his  knife  from  his  mouth  to  say  :  — 

"  Ef  you  ever  come  out  to  Salem  to  visit  your 


ON   THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

kin,  lope  out  to  my  farm.  It's  about  four  miles 
out  on  what  they  call  the  Kaintucky  pike.  I'll  tell 
Granny  Webb  I  seed  you;  she'll  be  tickled  to 
death." 

"  Why,  thank  you,"  replied  the  stranger.  "  I 
shall  certainly  call  on  you  should  I  ever  come  to 
Indiana." 

"  So  do !  "  Mr.  Sanders  rejoined. 

Whereupon  the  spectacled  man  and  his  bewhis- 
kered  companion  retired. 


II 


Later  in  the  afternoon  Captain  McCarthy  went 
to  the  room  occupied  by  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders, 
and  his  first  words  were  those  of  congratulation. 
He  shook  Mr.  Sanders  by  the  hand  with  great 
heartiness  and  regarded  him  with  undisguised  ad- 
miration. "  Do  you  know  what  you  have  done  ?  " 
he  cried.  "  You  have  thrown  a  big  black  bag  over 
the  head  of  the  most  capable  man  in  the  United 
States  Secret  Service.  He  is  really  an  expert. 
He  only  comes  here  occasionally,  and  he  is  a 
different-looking  man  every  time  he  comes.  The 
first  time  I  saw  him  he  had  black  hair,  parted  in 
the  middle,  and  a  beautiful  mustache  and  eye- 
glasses. I  always  have  a  peculiar  feeling  when 
he  comes  into  the  house,  and  this  feeling  is  espe- 

1 60 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

daily  strong  when  he  comes  into  the  dining  room. 
I  believe  if  he  were  hid  in  a  closet  and  I  should 
chance  to  pass  near  it,  I'd  know  he  was  there.  I 
know  him  through  all  his  changes,  and  it  is  very  for- 
tunate that  this  is  so.  I  invariably  make  it  a  point 
to  let  him  know  that  I  see  through  his  disguises." 

"  You  do  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders,  surprise  in 
his  voice. 

"  Yes ;  it  is  calculated  either  to  make  him  ner- 
vous or  to  give  him  a  certain  confidence  in  me.  I 
find  it  is  always  best  to  appear  to  be  perfectly 
straightforward,  as  you  were  at  dinner,"  added 
Captain  McCarthy,  laughing.  "  Why,  I  had  quite 
a  confidential  chat  with  the  man  not  half  an  hour 
ago.  When  he  entered  the  dining  room  to-day,  I 
met  him  at  the  threshold  with,  '  Ah !  good  day,  sir, 
I'm  glad  to  see  you  again.'  It  was  a  small  thing 
to  say,  but  it  disconcerted  him.  Otherwise  he 
would  have  addressed  himself  to  you" — turning 
to  Bethune  —  "and  the  consequences  might  not 
have  been  as  pleasant  as  they  were.  He  would 
have  irritated  you,  sir,  and  I  see  you  have  some- 
thing of  a  temper." 

Bethune  made  a  wry  face.  "  I  wish  there  was 
some  sort  of  patent  medicine  that  would  take  it 
out  of  me,  "  he  declared. 

"Time  is  the  medicine  for  that  —  time  and  ex- 
perience," remarked  Captain  McCarthy. 

161 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  It  ought  to  'a'  been  spanked  out  of  you  when 
you  was  a  little  chap,"  said  Mr.  Sanders ;  "  but  so 
fur  as  I  know,  you  never  got  but  one  lickin'  that 
done  you  any  good,  an'  that  was  when  Nan  frailed 
you  out." 

Bethune  blushed  like  a  schoolgirl,  for  the  inci- 
dent rankled  in  his  memory.  The  wounds  our 
pride  receives  are  longer  in  healing  than  those  of 
the  flesh.  Captain  McCarthy  could  see  that  the 
subject  was  not  a  pleasing  one  to  the  young  man, 
and  so  he  did  not  press  Mr.  Sanders  for  the  particu- 
lars, but  addressed  himself  to  more  important  mat- 
ters. First,  there  was  the  despatch  that  Mr.  Doyle 
had  intrusted  to  Bethune.  Captain  McCarthy  in- 
vited the  two  travellers  into  another  room,  reaching 
it  by  means  of  a  series  of  connecting  rooms.  Here 
they  found  three  or  four  men  busily  engaged  in 
writing  at  a  long  table.  Only  one  looked  up,  and 
he  (with  a  "  Hello,  Cap  !  ")  went  on  with  his  work. 
To  this  man  Captain  McCarthy  handed  the  des- 
patch, remarking,  "See  what  you  can  make  of 
that." 

The  document  consisted  of  about  a  dozen  lines. 
In  this  number  of  lines  there  were  a  number  of 
words  marked  out  by  parallel  lines,  and  other 
words  crossed  out.  The  clerk  glanced  at  it  and 
passed  it  to  an  older  man,  with  the  remark,  "It 
looks  all  right  to  me."  The  elderly  man  took  it 

162 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

and  immediately  began  to  swell,  apparently  with 
inward  rage.  "  Looks  all  right,  does  it  ?  Why 
don't  you  learn  a  little  sense  ?  We'll  be  ruined  by 
you  yet" 

"  Well,  it's  out  of  my  line ;  get  the  SK  code." 
Apparently  still  in  a  rage,  and  with  much  mut- 
tering and  growling,  the  elderly  man  went  to  a  tall 
cabinet  lined  from  top  to  bottom  with  pigeon-holes. 
SK  stood  for  Scratch  Code,  and  this  he  fished  out 
from  a  number  of  others  —  a  thin  pamphlet  con- 
taining a  dozen  or  more  pages  printed  on  tissue- 
like  paper.  This  queer  pamphlet  contained  some 
information  that  was  very  interesting  to  Bethune, 
and  to  Mr.  Sanders  as  well.  It  assured  its  readers 
that  a  certain  word  scratched  out  with  one  horizon- 
tal line  meant  one  thing,  with  two  parallel  lines 
another  thing,  and  so  on  up  to  five  parallel  lines. 
Then  cross-scratching  and  cross-hatching  meant  so 
many  different  things,  according  to  the  number  of 
crisses  and  crosses  and  scratches  and  hatches,  that 
the  reader  finally  stood  amazed  at  the  fluency  and 
versatility  of  the  SK  code. 

The  upshot  of  it  was  that  a  document  which 
appeared  to  be,  on  the  face  of  it,  a  very  cordial 
introduction,  was  about  as  follows,  after  the  illu- 
mination of  the  SK  code  had  been  shed  on  it :  — 

"The  bearer  of  this  is  dangerous.  Under  pretext  of 
bringing  a  woman  from  Washington  he  proposes  to  kidnap 

163 


ON  THE   WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

the  President.  He  has  a  pass  from  Lincoln.  His  com- 
panion harmless.  Will  tell  truth  if  pressed.  Take  initiative. 
Have  both  arrested,  and  then  tell  Secretary.  This  should 
help  both  of  us.  Let  woman  be  brought  South  by  (aught) 
(naught)  rye." 

It  was  over  the  conclusion  of  this  translation 
that  the  elderly  clerk  growled  and  snorted,  and 
finally  gave  it  up. 

"That's  all  I  can  get  out  of  the  Code,"  he 
grumbled.  "  The  last  scratch  stands  for  a  cipher, 
an  aught  or  a  naught." 

"  Could  it  be  Awtry  —  Waldron  Awtry  ?  "  asked 
Bethune,  turning  to  Sanders. 

"  Why,  certain  an'  shore  !  I  heard  some  of  the 
boys  say  that  Waldron  went  over  to  the  Yankees 
right  arter  the  war  begun.  All  his  mammy's  folks 
live  in  Massachusetts.  Why,  don't  you  remember 
the  chap  that  come  to  Harmony  Grove  in  'sixty, 
preachin'  freedom  to  the  niggers,  an'  how  the  boys 
got  behind  him  an'  come  mighty  nigh  puttin'  out 
his  lights  ?  Well,  that  chap  was  Madame  Awtry's 
Massachusetts  nevvew." 

"  Then  that  is  the  man,"  remarked  Captain  Mc- 
Carthy with  emphasis.  "  For  some  reason  or  other 
this  man  Doyle  wants  to  get  Awtry  South  again, 
or  he  knows  that  Awtry  wants  to  go." 

Reflecting  a  moment,  he  turned  to  the  elderly 
clerk.  "  Mr.  Crampton,  that  despatch  must  be 

164 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

re-copied  and  re-scratched  so  as  to  give  a  better 
account  of  these  gentlemen.  Why,  the  nonsense 
about  kidnapping  Mr.  Lincoln  would  send  both  of 
you  to  the  gallows  if  Mr.  Stanton's  eye  fell  on  it. 
Of  course,  such  a  thing  was  never  contemplated." 
He  paused,  and  fixed  an  inquiring  eye  on  Bethune. 

"Well  — "  Bethune  began,  but  he  paused;  he 
seemed  to  be  too  busy  copying  the  translation  of 
the  original  despatch  to  complete  the  remark. 

"Why,  of  course  not,"  exclaimed  Captain  Mc- 
Carthy. "The  scheme  is  preposterous.  That 
man  Doyle  is  simply  fiendish." 

Leaving  Mr.  Crampton,  the  elderly  clerk,  growl- 
ing and  grumbling  over  his  task,  which  was  by  no 
means  an  unusual  one,  Captain  McCarthy  ac- 
companied young  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders  to 
their  room  again,  where  they  discussed  the  situa- 
tion at  some  length.  Mr.  Awtry  became  a  new 
factor  in  the  problem.  Mr.  Sanders  and  Bethune 
both  knew  him  well,  and  he  knew  them.  Until 
1858,  with  the  exception  of  two  college  years,  he 
had  lived  all  his  life  with  his  mother  in  Harmony 
Grove,  and  there  was  every  reason  to  believe  that 
he  would  recognise  either  one  of  his  fellow-towns- 
men the  moment  he  laid  eyes  on  him. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  about  it  ? "  Captain 
McCarthy  inquired.  He  had  been  fully  informed 
by  this  time  of  the  plan  to  kidnap  the  President, 

165 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

but  he  did  not  repeat  his  assertion  that  it  was  pre- 
posterous. That  was  for  the  ears  of  his  clerks. 

"I'm  going  right  ahead,"  replied  Bethune. 
"  There's  nothing  else  to  do." 

"  Yes,  sir ! "  said  Mr.  Sanders.  "  We'll  go  right 
ahead  an'  brazen  it  out.  An'  if  you  hear  I've  been 
strung  up,  why  jest  drap  a  line  to  Meriwether 
Clopton,  Esquire,  that  William  H.  Sanders,  late  of 
said  county,  deceased,  bein'  of  sound  mind  an'  dis- 
posin'  memory,  has  up'd  and  kicked  the  bucket. 
Frank,  there,  has  got  a  paper  that'll  take  him 
through.  Ef  he  didn't  have,  I  wouldn't  go  a 
step  wi'  him." 

Captain  McCarthy  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
looked  at  Mr.  Sanders  with  great  interest.  The 
steadiness  of  his  gaze  was  tempered  by  a  pleasant 
smile,  which  lit  his  strong  and  handsome  face. 

"  I  intended  to  advise  you  not  to  carry  out  your 
original  plan,  but  that  is  not  necessary.  I  intended, 
also,  to  beg  you  by  all  means  not  to  harm  a  hair  of 
Mr.  Lincoln's  head ;  but  that,  too,  is  unnecessary. 
You  will  find  that  the  President  is  a  man  after 
your  own  heart." 

"  Not  every  which-a-way,  I  reckon,"  remarked 
Mr.  Sanders,  making  a  wry  face. 

"  Yes,  in  all  ways  except  politics,"  replied  Mc- 
Carthy. "He  is  the  only  man  of  them  all  who  sees 
his  way  clear,  or  who  knows  precisely  what  he 

166 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

wants  to  do.  Outwardly,  he  is  a  plain,  rough  man, 
with  a  kindly  nature.  If  you  get  in  any  trouble, 
simply  demand  to  be  carried  to  Mr.  Lincoln.  I 
have  more  than  one  reason  for  giving  you  this 
advice.  If  Stanton's  crowd  get  you,  and  are 
able  to  keep  your  case  from  Mr.  Lincoln's  ears, 
you  will  surely  be  hanged." 

A  few  hours  afterward  Bethune  and  his  com- 
panion had  crossed  the  river  to  Jersey  City,  and 
were  on  their  way  to  Washington.  The  first  man 
they  saw  as  they  entered  the  train  was  Waldron 
Awtry.  He  was  walking  about  by  the  side  of  the 
coach  talking  to  some  one.  He  had  a  light  mili- 
tary cape  hung  across  his  arm,  and  his  tall  figure 
and  haughty  bearing  made  him  conspicuous  in  the 
multitude  that  swarmed  about  the  station.  Un- 
doubtedly Mr.  Awtry  saw  the  two  Southerners. 
He  paused  in  his  promenade  and  looked  them  in 
the  face,  under  pretence  of  transferring  his  cape 
from  one  arm  to  the  other.  But  he  made  no  sign 
of  recognition,  nor  did  they. 

When  the  train  was  under  way,  Mr.  Awtry 
came  back  into  the  car.  He  spoke  to  one  or  two, 
and  then  seated  himself  near  Bethune  and  Mr. 
Sanders,  who  occupied  seats  facing  each  other. 
After  a  while  a  lady  came  in,  whereupon  Awtry 
promptly  arose,  hat  in  hand,  and  gave  her  his 
seat. 

167 


ON   THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

"May  I  sit  by  you,  sir  ? "  he  asked  of  Mr. 
Sanders. 

"Why,  tooby  shore,"  replied  that  worthy;  "but 
I'll  have  to  tell  you  what  the  old  'oman  told  the 
feller  in  the  stage-coach,  'You  can  scrouge  as 
much  as  you  please,  but  I  don't  want  no  hunchin'." 

Awtry  threw  back  his  head  and  smiled  broadly. 
Bethune  was  occupied  in  reading  the  Herald,  and 
seemed  to  be  paying  no  attention  to  the  newcomer. 
Finally  he  put  it  down  and  glanced  at  Awtry  and 
caught  his  eye,  but  saw  no  sign  of  recognition 
there.  Indeed,  Awtry  took  the  opportunity  of  the 
glance  to  borrow  Bethune's  copy  of  the  Herald, 
which  he  read  for  some  minutes  with  apparent 
interest.  Presently  he  said  to  Mr.  Sanders  in  a 
low  tone :  — 

"  Do  you  see  the  small  man  in  the  farther  end 
of  the  car  —  the  man  with  the  eye-glasses  ?  Well, 
he  took  dinner  with  you  yesterday." 

"  You  don't  say !  Is  that  the  chap  ?  Why, 
how  in  the  world  do  you  know?"  inquired  Mr. 
Sanders. 

"  I  was  the  big  fellow  with  side-whiskers.  He 
had  a  good  deal  of  fun  out  of  me  yesterday,  and 
now  I  want  to  turn  the  joke  on  him.  I'm  going 
to  move  my  seat  in  a  moment,  and  presently  he'll 
be  back  here.  If  you  catch  his  eye,  speak  to  him, 
and  let  him  see  that  you  know  him.  But  don't 

1 68 


THE   KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

expose  him.  Talk  to  him  in  a  confidential  way. 
You  know  what  I  mean ;  don't  make  an  enemy  of 
him.  Another  thing,  when  you  get  off  the  train 
in  Washington,  follow  me.  1  have  something  to 
say  to  both  of  you." 

All  this  time  Mr.  Awtry  pretended  to  be  reading 
the  paper,  and  his  voice  was  so  low  that  Bethune, 
sitting  four  feet  away,  could  only  catch  a  few 
words.  He  was  very  curious,  but  Mr.  Sanders 
had  no  opportunity  to  appease  his  curiosity,  for  as 
Awtry  joined  the  group  at  the  rear  end  of  the  car, 
—  some  were  standing,  while  others  were  sitting 
on  the  arms  of  the  seats,  —  a  small  man  detached 
himself  from  the  group  and  walked  down  the  aisle. 
He  glanced  casually  at  Mr.  Sanders  and  would 
have  passed  on,  but  the  man  who  was  so  well 
acquainted  with  the  Webb  family  of  Salem,  In- 
jianny,  wouldn't  permit  it.  He  seized  the  detec- 
tive by  the  hand  and  shook  it. 

"  Whyn't  you  tell  me  you  was  comin'  down  ? " 
he  inquired.  Then,  as  if  making  a  sudden  dis- 
covery, he  lowered  his  voice,  "Why,  what's  the 
matter  ?  Why,  sakes  alive,  man !  what  have  you 
been  doin'  to  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  other,  with 
some  asperity.  "  You  have  the  advantage  of  me. 
I  have  missed  a  good  deal,  no  doubt,  but  I  have 
not  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance." 

169 


ON  THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

Mr.  Sanders  drew  himself  up  and  swelled  out  as 
if  he  were  about  to  make  some  loud  exclamation. 
Then  he  suddenly  caught  himself  and  subsided. 
"Oh,  that's  the  game,  is  it?  Well,  whyn't  you 
sorter  gi'  me  a  hint-like,  yistiddy  ?  No  offence  — 
none  give  an'  none  took.  If  you  ever  come  to 
Salem,  come  right  out  to  the  farm." 

Waldron  Awtry  had  followed  the  detective  down 
the  aisle,  passed  him  as  he  stood  talking  to  Mr. 
Sanders,  and  now  stood  waiting  for  him  out  of 
earshot. 

"  Who's  your  friend  ? "  Awtry  asked  noncha- 
lantly, as  his  companion  came  up  to  him.  "  Oh,  I 
see  :  it's  the  old  duck  we  saw  at  the  hotel  yester- 
day. He  knew  me ;  did  he  know  you  ? " 

"  He  certainly  did,"  replied  the  detective. 
"  What's  wrong  with  me  ?  How  did  the  old 
blunderbuss  know  me  ?  Am  I  losing  my  grip  ?  " 

"Why,  no;  not  the  least  in  the  world,"  said 
Awtry,  soothingly.  "  The  old  man  is  simply  a 
shrewd  countryman  with  horse  sense.  Did  you 
ever  try  to  deceive  Mr.  Lincoln  with  your  dis- 
guises? Well,  just  try  it,  and  you'll  find  you  can't 
do  it.  You  can  fool  Stanton,  but  Mr.  Lincoln 
will  see  through  you  with  one  eye  shut.  Anyhow, 
I'm  going  to  hang  on  to  this  old  man  and  his  son 
for  an  hour  or  so  after  we  get  to  Washington.  I 
may  be  able  to  pick  up  some  information." 

170 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

When  the  train  rolled  into  the  station  at  the 
Capital,  Waldron  Awtry  managed  to  be  near 
Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders,  and  he  insisted  that 
they  should  go  with  him.  They  hesitated ;  they 
had  not  the  least  confidence  in  him,  but  he  knew 
them.  He  could  have  them  imprisoned  by  a  word 
or  a  gesture  ;  and  once  immured,  their  lives  would 
be  in  danger,  for  Bethune  had  made  up  his  mind, 
in  case  of  arrest,  to  destroy  Mr.  Lincoln's  pass  and 
take  his  chances  with  the  man  who  was  so  cheer- 
fully risking  his  life  as  the  result  of  one  of  Bethune's 
madcap  whims.  They  had  small  choice,  therefore  ; 
in  fact,  none  at  all ;  and  all  the  hesitation  they 
betrayed  manifested  itself  in  Mr.  Sanders's  good- 
humoured  protest. 

"We  don't  want  to  pester  you,  we  don't  want 
to  be  in  the  way.  You  jest  show  us  a  good  place  to 
eat  and  sleep,  and  we'll  be  mighty  much  obliged  to 
you." 

But  no,  Mr.  Awtry  would  not  have  it  so.  He 
insisted,  and  they  gave  a  ready  if  not  a  cheerful 
assent.  He  was  stopping  at  a  hotel,  and  he  put 
himself  to  a  little  trouble  to  secure  them  a  room 
next  to  the  one  occupied  by  himself.  In  short,  he 
was  fertile  in  all  those  little  attentions  which  do 
not  look  important,  but  which  add  so  much  to  the 
comfort  of  those  who  are  the  objects  of  them. 

They  had  a  late  but  a  very  good  dinner.  Mr. 
171 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

Awtry  wanted  to  order  wine,  knowing  the  character 
and  extent  of  Mr.  Sanders's  chief  weakness,  but 
they  positively  refused.  Mr.  Sanders,  indeed,  made 
no  bones  of  explaining  why  he  wouldn't  touch  the 
stuff. 

"It's  a  little  stronger'n  water  an'  not  quite  as 
strong  as  dram.  But  it  flies  to  my  tongue,  an'  no 
sooner  does  it  do  that  than  I  begin  to  make  a  speech 
about  my  fam'ly  affairs,  good  an'  bad.  An'  folks 
say  that  I'm  every  bit  an'  grain  as  proud  of  the 
black  spots  as  I  am  of  the  white  uns." 

So,  for  the  time  being,  Mr.  Sanders  was  a  tee- 
totaller, much  to  Mr.  Awtry's  disgust,  for  that 
gentleman  had  fully  made  up  his  mind  to  get  into 
the  confidence  of  his  former  fellow-townsman,  and, 
if  he  could  advance  his  own  ends  by  doing  so,  to 
turn  them  over  to  Mr.  Stanton  as  spies.  But  he 
saw  at  once  that  Mr.  Sanders's  unexpected  fit  of 
temperance  stood  mightily  in  the  way.  Under  the 
circumstances,  he  thought  it  would  be  best  to  go 
about  the  business  in  a  straightforward  manner. 
It  was  just  possible,  he  thought,  that  Bethune  and 
Mr.  Sanders,  being  in  the  enemy's  country,  sur- 
rounded by  all  sorts  of  dangers,  and  beset  by 
fears,  real  or  imaginary,  would  turn  for  advice  to 
an  old  acquaintance  —  a  man  who  had  been  born 
and  raised  in  the  same  community. 

Mr.  Awtry  had  long  been  what  is  called  a  man 
172 


THE   KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

of  the  world.  He  had  travelled  abroad,  he  had 
seen  life  in  all  its  various  manifestations,  and  under 
social  forms  widely  different,  and  he  considered 
himself,  not  without  reason,  to  be  a  pretty  good 
judge  of  human  nature.  The  trouble  in  this  case 
was  that  he  underrated  the  intellectual  resources 
of  Mr.  Sanders.  He  made  the  mistake  that  so 
many  sensible  men  make,  namely,  that  a  person 
who  is  practically  illiterate  with  respect  to  text- 
books and  to  the  kind  of  education  furnished  in 
the  schools,  must  necessarily  be  deficient  in  all 
those  qualities  that  are  said  to  be  the  result  of 
learning.  Therefore,  Mr.  Awtry  started  out  with 
a  contempt  for  Bethune  as  a  "  cub,"  and  for  Mr. 
Sanders  as  an  ignoramus. 

Bethune  was,  indeed,  young  in  years  and  in  ex- 
perience, but  he  was  wise  enough  to  submit  to  the 
initiative  of  an  older  head.  And  Mr.  Sanders  was 
ignorant  of  Greek  and  Latin,  algebra,  rhetoric,  and 
the  like,  but  he  was  very  familiar  with  the  Bible, 
and  his  judgment  of  men  (as  well  as  horses  and 
dogs)  was  all  but  infallible.  He  had  known  Wal- 
dron  Awtry  a  long  time,  and  knew  that  he  had  no 
fixed  principles  of  any  kind  whatsoever.  Conse- 
quently, Mr.  Sanders  was  prepared  for  any  move 
that  might  be  made. 

The  very  first  trial  of  wits  between  the  old 
Georgia  cracker  and  the  man  of  the  world  should 

173 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

have  been  sufficient  to  convince  Awtry  that  he  had 
no  ordinary  man  to  deal  with,  but  he  never  even 
suspected  that  the  occurrence  was  other  than  an 
awkward  accident. 

It  happened  in  this  way :  When  darkness  had 
fallen,  and  the  lights  had  been  lit,  the  three  sat  for 
a  while  in  Mr.  Awtry's  room,  talking  about  the 
homef  oik.  Suddenly  the  latter  suggested  that  they 
adjourn  to  the  next  room,  which  had  been  assigned 
to  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders. 

"  Walls  have  ears,  you  know,"  remarked  Awtry, 
"and  we  don't  know  who  may  be  in  the  room 
adjoining." 

Mr.  Sanders  noticed  that  there  was  no  connect- 
ing door  between  Mr.  Awtry's  apartment  and  the 
one  he  desired  to  avoid,  whereas  there  was  a  door 
between  Awtry's  room  and  the  one  he  had  secured 
for  them,  and  the  transom  was  wide  open.  There 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  act  on  the  suggestion  that 
had  been  made,  but  as  Awtry  turned  out  his  light, 
Mr.  Sanders  laid  his  pocket-knife  softly  on  the 
table.  It  was  a  big  knife  with  a  horn  handle. 

Once  in  their  own  room,  Bethune  and  Mr.  San- 
ders became  the  hosts,  and  Mr.  Sanders  became 
unusually  talkative.  He  wanted  to  know  particu- 
larly what  Waldron  Awtry  was  doing  in  this  "  neck 
of  the  woods,"  as  he  phrased  it.  How  was  he 
getting  on  ? 

174 


THE  KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

"  You  know,  Waldron,  the  folks  at  home  will  be 
mighty  glad  to  hear  news  about  you,"  Mr.  Sanders 
declared. 

Awtry  laughed  bitterly.  "  Oh,  I  dare  say,"  he 
replied.  "  They'd  show  their  fondness  for  me  if  I 
went  back  there  now." 

"They  would  —  they  certainly  would,"  replied 
Mr.  Sanders,  solemnly. 

"  I'd  go  back  this  minute  if  I  could,"  said  Awtry, 
in  a  low  tone. 

"Why  can't  you?"  asked  Mr.  Sanders.  "If 
you  think  that  me  an'  Frank  are  goin'  back  there 
an'  tell  everything  we've  seen  an'  heard,  you're 
mighty  much  mistaken.  We  don't  owe  you  no 
grudge,  an'  as  for  me,  I  allers  make  allowances  for 
men  under  forty." 

"  Now,  tell  me  about  yourselves,"  urged  Awtry, 
raising  his  voice.  "  What  under  the  sun  has 
brought  you  two,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  to 
Washington  ? " 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  honestly  and  candidly,  Wal- 
dron," replied  Mr.  Sanders ;  "  we  are  here  on  the 
most  ticklish  piece  of  business  you  ever  heard  of, 
and  the  foolishest."  Mr.  Sanders  was  sitting  with 
his  chair  careened  backward,  his  hands  in  his  pock- 
ets. Suddenly  he  arose  to  his  feet  with  an  excla- 
mation. "  Be  jigged  if  I  ain't  lost  my  knife ! 
Now,  I  wouldn't  take  a  purty  for  that  knife." 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

He  searched  in  all  his  pockets,  frowning  and 
grumbling.  Then  his  countenance  cleared  up. 
"I  know  where  it  is;  I  left  it  on  the  table  in 
the  next  room." 

He  was  moving  toward  the  door,  but  Waldron 
Awtry  was  quicker.  "I'll  get  it  for  you,"  he 
said. 

"  Don't  le'  me  trouble  you,"  insisted  Mr.  Sanders ; 
"  I  can  put  my  hand  right  on  it" 

He  made  as  if  to  follow  Awtry,  but  as  the  latter 
hurried  into  the  room,  Mr.  Sanders  made  two  strides 
to  the  door  leading  into  the  hall,  opened  it  softly, 
and  was  just  in  time  to  see  a  well-dressed  man  slip 
from  Awtry's  apartment,  close  the  door  behind  him, 
and  take  the  attitude  of  a  listener. 

"  Hello !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders.  "  How  long 
you  been  knockin'  there  ? " 

"  Some  time,"  replied  the  man,  trying  to  conceal 
his  surprise. 

"  Well,  I  thought  I  heard  a  knockin',"  remarked 
Mr.  Sanders,  "  but  when  I  git  to  talkin'  my  tongue 
runs  like  a  flutter-milL  Waldron !  there's  a  gentle- 
man at  your  door.  He  says  he's  been  knockin' 
there  for  the  longest,  an'  I  shouldn't  wonder." 

Awtry  went  to  the  door,  and  he  and  the  new- 
comer greeted  each  other  effusively.  It  was, 
"  When  did  you  get  here  ? "  and  "  You  must  be 
terribly  busy  not  to  hear  a  fellow  hammering  on 

176 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

the  door,"  and  "  You'll  have  to  excuse  me ;  I  was 
talking  to  some  old  friends  I  haven't  seen  before 
in  years." 

While  this  was  going  on,  Mr.  Sanders  was  shak- 
ing with  silent  laughter,  but  he  was  the  picture 
of  childlike  innocence  when  Waldron  Awtry  re- 
turned to  his  chair,  after  dismissing  his  casual 
guest. 

"  You  forgot  my  knife,  I  reckon,"  said  Mr.  San- 
ders, laughing,  "  but  if  I  hadn't  pestered  you  we'd 
never  heard  that  chap  knockin'.  Friend  of  yours? 
Well,  whyn't  you  fetch  him  in?  Any  of  your 
friends  is  more  than  welcome." 

"You  were  about  to  tell  me  something  of  the 
business  that  brought  you  here,"  suggested  Mr. 
Awtry. 

"Yes,  I  was,"  said  Mr.  Sanders,  and  with  that 
he  related,  in  a  way  more  or  less  graphic,  the  cir- 
cumstances that  had  caused  Francis  Bethune  to 
resign  his  commission,  and  that  finally  brought 
him  to  Washington.  Mr.  Awtry  asked  to  see  the 
pass,  and  when  he  had  examined  it,  he  said  it  was 
as  good  as  gold. 

"But  where  is  your  pass?"  he  asked  Mr. 
Sanders. 

"My  pass,"  replied  Mr.  Sanders,  "is  like  the 
gal's  fortune." 

For  the  first  time,  Mr.  Awtry  indulged  in  laugh- 
177 


ON  THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

ter,  and  it  was  so  becoming  to  him  that  Mr.  San- 
ders remarked  it  and  said,  "  You  oughter  laugh  a 
heep  more'n  you  do,  Waldron.  It  makes  you  look 
like  you  was  a  boy  ag'in." 

"  Now  about  the  letter  or  despatch.  Can  you  lay 
your  hand  on  it  ? "  said  Awtry. 

Francis  Bethune  drew  forth  a  package  of  letters 
and  papers,  and  proceeded  to  search  for  the  de- 
spatch. Among  the  papers  was  half  of  a  daguer- 
rotype  case  which  contained  the  picture  of  a  lady. 
The  tones  of  the  picture  had  been  somewhat  sub- 
dued by  time,  but  this  added  to  the  soft  beauty  of 
the  face.  It  was  the  picture  of  Miss  Puella  Gil- 
lum.  The  gentle  eyes  had  an  appealing  glance  in 
them,  and  there  was  just  the  suspicion  of  a  smile 
playing  around  the  mouth.  The  picture  had  slipped 
from  the  papers  and  lay  under  the  light,  face  up. 

Mr.  Awtry  saw  it.     "  Ah,  your  sweetheart  ? " 

"Oh,  no!"  replied  Bethune;  "not  my  sweet- 
heart, but  the  best  friend  I  ever  had  in  the  world." 

Mr.  Awtry  took  the  picture  in  his  hand,  looked 
at  it,  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Puella  Gillum  !  "  he  said  softly. 

"Yes,"  remarked  Mr.  Sanders  in  his  matter-of- 
fact  way,  "  she's  still  a-waitin'  for  you,  Waldron." 

"  For  me  ? " 

"That's  what  we  all  think." 

"  Oh,  no !  no,  you  are  mistaken.  The  man  good 
178 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

enough  for  her  has  never  been  born.  She's  the 
only  woman  that  could  have  made  me  different 
from  what  I  am." 

"Why  didn't  you  let  her  try  her  hand?"  Mr. 
Sanders  inquired. 

"  If  ever  a  man  tried  to  marry  a  woman,  I  tried 
to  marry  her,"  replied  Awtry.  There  was  a  touch 
of  boyish  frankness  in  his  voice. 

"  Well,  you  was  a  purty  wild  colt,  an'  I'm  afeard 
you  ain't  broke  to  harness  yet." 

All  this  time,  Mr.  Awtry  had  never  lifted  his 
eyes  from  the  picture.  Finally  he  laid  it  down 
with  a  sigh.  Mr.  Sanders,  regarding  him  closely, 
saw  that  all  the  insolence  had  died  out  of  his  eyes. 
Instead  of  the  sneer  that  usually  hovered  around 
his  mouth,  there  was  a  whimsical,  half-petulant 
expression,  as  when  a  boy  has  a  grievance  of  some 
kind. 

Bethune  had  found  the  despatch,  and  now  laid 
it  before  him. 

'  Awtry  took  the  picture  in  one  hand  and  the 
paper  in  the  other  and  held  them  up  side  by  side. 
Then  he  threw  his  head  back  and  smiled  brightly. 

"  Here  is  the  angel,"  said  he,  holding  the  picture 
higher,  "and  here  is  the  serpent.  If  the  angel 
could  talk,  it  would  approve  what  I  am  now  going 
to  do."  He  struck  a  match,  and  held  the  despatch 
in  the  flame.  The  paper  burned  with  some  diffi- 
179 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

culty,  being  thick  and  heavy,  but  Mr.  Awtry  per- 
sisted until  the  last  vestige  had  been  reduced  to 
ashes. 

"  If  you  had  presented  that  despatch  to  the  man 
to  whom  it  is  addressed,"  he  said  to  Bethune,  "you 
would  never  have  seen  your  home  and  friends 
again.  You  don't  know  what  a  devil  Doyle  is." 
He  paused  and  looked  at  Mr.  Sanders  with  a  pecul- 
iar smile.  "  And  I  am  worse  —  a  hundred  times 
worse.  Doyle  and  I  are  trying  to  make  a  record 
in  the  secret  service,"  Awtry  continued,  "  and  we 
seized  on  the  opportunity  offered  by  Mr.  Lincoln's 
desire  to  get  a  dangerous  woman  off  his  hands. 
But  for  the  President,  the  woman  would  be  in  the 
Old  Capital  prison  at  this  moment,  but  he  heard 
of  her  arrest  and  sent  for  her.  He  desired  to  send 
her  South  under  the  escort  of  an  officer,  but  the 
woman  declared  that  she  wouldn't  trust  herself  to 
the  care  of  any  enemy  of  her  country.  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln, who  is  a  Southern  woman,  understood  the 
situation  from  that  standpoint,  and  sympathised 
with  the  demand  —  yes,  demand.  You  wouldn't 
think  a  woman  who  was  in  prison  a  few  weeks 
ago  with  evidence  enough  against  her  to  send 
her  to  the  gallows  would  be  bold  enough  to  make 
demands ;  but  that  is  just  what  has  happened." 

"  Well,  there  ain't  no  accountin'  for  the  wimmen," 
remarked  Mr.  Sanders. 

1 80 


THE   KIDNAPPING  OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

"  Do  you  know  who  this  woman  is  ? "  inquired 
Awtry,  turning  to  Bethune. 

"  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Up  here  she  calls  herself  Estelle  Brandon,  but 
at%home  she  is  known  as  Mrs.  Elise  Clopton." 

"  My  aunt  ? "  cried  Bethune,  the  blood  rushing 
to  his  face. 

"  The  same,"  said  Awtry,  with  a  smile. 

"Well,  if  you'd  'a'  gi'  me  three  guesses,  I'd  'a' 
called  her  name,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders.  "  It's 
'most  like  knowin'  folks's  han'-writin'.  I'll  tell  you 
what's  the  solemn  truth,  Waldron,"  Mr.  Sanders 
went  on  gravely,  "  for  a  'oman  that's  got  a  heap  of 
sense,  Leese  Clopton  is  the  biggest  fool  that  ever 
trod  shoe-leather.  I  don't  reckon  I  oughter  talk 
that-away,  but  it's  the  naked  truth.  I've  got  a 
right  to  say  it,  too,  bekaze  I'd  knock  down  and 
drag  out  anybody  else  that  said  it  outside  the 
fam'ly.  Fool  as  she  is,  I'm  mighty  fond  of 
Leese." 

Bethune  made  a  grimace.  "  I  don't  like  her 
much,  but  I'm  glad  I  came.  I  hope  her  experi- 
ence will  take  some  of  the  silly  romance  out  of  her 
head." 

"  Shucks !  you  couldn't  git  it  out'n  her  onless 
you  changed  her  head.  I'll  bet  you  right  now  that 
she  thinks  she's  done  wonders,"  remarked  Mr. 
Sanders. 

181 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  That's  true,"  said  Mr.  Awtry,  laughing.  "  She 
thinks  she  is  quite  a  heroine."  All  of  a  sudden  his 
manner  changed.  "  Come,  we've  been  here  too 
long.  They're  expecting  me  to  carry  you  to  head- 
quarters, and  some  of  the  boys  will  come  here  pretty 
soon  to  see  what's  the  matter.  We  have  no  time 
to  waste.  I'll  take  you  to  Mr.  Lincoln  at  once. 
After  that,  you'll  be  safe." 

He  hustled  around  with  a  great  display  of  energy, 
and  seemed  to  be  really  anxious  and  uneasy.  Mr. 
Sanders,  who  had  developed  a  copious  supply  of 
what  he  called  "  good,  healthy  suspicion,"  put  sev- 
eral questions  to  Mr.  Awtry.  The  latter  finally 
handed  Mr.  Sanders  a  loaded  pistol. 

"  Take  this,"  he  said,  "  and  if  things  don't  go  to 
suit  you,  put  a  ball  through  my  head." 

"  All  right,  Waldron.  So  be  it.  I'll  do  as  you 
say,"  Mr.  Sanders  remarked  in  a  tone  of  relief. 

Awtry  ordered  a  carriage,  and  in  a  very  few 
minutes  they  were  on  their  way  to  the  White 
House.  The  hour  was  not  late,  and  when  they 
arrived  there  was  considerable  bustle  about  the 
doors.  Congressmen  were  coming  and  going,  and 
"big  bugs,"  as  Mr.  Sanders  expressed  it,  of  various 
degrees  of  importance,  were  moving  to  and  fro. 

There  seemed  to  be  some  difficulty  about  seeing 
Mr.  Lincoln,  but  Awtry  would  not  be  denied.  He 
was  as  pompous  and  as  imperious  in  his  demand 

182 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

to  be  shown  into  Mr.  Lincoln's  office  as  any  mem- 
ber of  the  Cabinet  could  have  been.  He  sent  a 
card  in  and  followed  the  messenger  to  the  very 
door.  He  had  written  on  the  card :  "  In  regard  to 
the  Brandon  case,"  and  presently  some  one  came 
out  and  conducted  the  three  through  a  side  door 
into  the  private  room  to  which  Mr.  Lincoln  retired 
when  he  was  troubled  or  had  a  fit  of  melancholy 
that  somehow  went  hand  in  hand  with  him  until 
his  unfortunate  taking  off.  A  fire  was  burning  on 
the  hearth,  and  the  three  callers  sat  in  silence 
while  waiting  for  Mr.  Lincoln  to  make  his  appear- 
ance. They  waited  a  long  time,  as  it  seemed  to 
Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders,  and  even  when  the  door 
opened  and  a  tall  man  with  tousled  black  hair 
came  into  the  room.  He  was  followed  by  a  thick- 
set, quick-spoken  person  whose  features  were 
almost  entirely  concealed  by  a  heavy  beard  and 
spectacles  with  wide  glasses. 

"  But,  Mr.  President,"  said  this  person,  with  a 
show  of  indignation,  "  you  will  ruin  the  discipline 
of  the  army  if  you  go  on  reprieving  deserters. 
Why,  this  case  is  a  most  flagrant  one." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  know  all  about  that.  But  he's  a 
mere  lad.  Why,  he's  not  more  than  twenty-two. 
He  got  tired  and  hungry  and  homesick.  Why, 
when  his  mother  came  in  this  morning  and  told 
me  the  facts,  I  didn't  let  her  finish.  I  said,  '  Hold 

183 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

on,  madam ;  you've  said  enough.  I  know  all 
about  the  case  —  I've  been  in  your  son's  shoes  a 
hundred  times.' " 

"But,  Mr.  President  — "  interposed  the  other. 

"  But,  Mr.  Secretary,"  interrupted  the  President, 
"  you  forget  that  every  soldier  in  the  Union  Army 
is  a  free-born  American  citizen.  We  can't  afford 
to  hang  American  citizens  because  they  get  home- 
sick and  heart-heavy.  You  remind  me  of  a  fellow 
I  once  heard  of  in  Kentucky." 

But  before  the  President  could  point  the  moral 
with  a  story,  Mr.  Secretary  had  whipped  indig- 
nantly out  of  the  room,  slamming  the  door  behind 
him  with  no  show  of  respect  whatever. 

The  three  visitors  had  arisen  from  their  chairs 
when  Mr.  Lincoln  entered  the  room,  and  at  least 
two  of  them  regarded  him  with  interest  and  curi- 
osity as  he  came  slouching  toward  them  with  a 
chuckle. 

"  These  gentlemen,  Mr.  President,  have  come  in 
regard  to  the  Brandon  case,"  said  Mr.  Awtry, 
introducing  the  two  Georgians.  "You  forwarded 
a  pass,  through  me,  if  you  remember.  Mr.  Bethune 
accepted  the  commission,  and  Mr.  Sanders  —  " 

"Well,  Mr.  President,  I  jest  come  on  my  own 
hook,  as  the  little  boy  said  about  the  cow  in  the 
garden,"  Mr.  Sanders  hastened  to  say. 

"  Take  seats,  all  of  you,"  remarked  Mr.  Lincoln, 
184 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

cordially.  Then  he  turned  to  Mr.  Sanders,  "  What 
about  the  little  boy  and  the  cow  ? " 

"  Why,  one  Sunday  a  little  boy  was  set  to  mind 
a  gap  in  the  gyarden  fence.  A  panel  had  blowed 
down  in  the  night,  and  it  couldn't  be  mended  on 
account  of  Sunday.  So  the  little  boy  was  set  to 
mind  it.  When  the  folks  got  home  from  church 
the  cow  was  in  the  gyarden,  and  the  little  boy  was 
settin'  on  the  doorsteps  snifflin'.  His  mammy 
says,  '  Why,  honey,  what  in  the  world  is  the  mat- 
ter? The  gyarden  is  ruined.  How  did  the  cow 
git  in  ? '  '  She  run  her  horns  under  my  jacket  an* 
flung  me  a  somerset,'  says  the  little  boy.  '  I  see,' 
says  his  daddy, '  she  got  in  on  her  own  hook.'  The 
daddy  thought  he  had  got  off  a  good  joke,  but 
nobody  seed  the  two  p'ints,  an'  this  made  him  so 
mad  that  he  went  in  the  house  an'  loaded  his  gun 
wi'  a  piece  of  fat  bacon,  an'  fired  it  right  at  the 
cow's  hindquarters.  She  curled  her  tail  an'  run 
off  smokin'.  They  say  you  could  smell  fried  meat 
in  that  neighbourhood  for  the  longest." 

Mr.  Lincoln  clasped  his  hands  behind  his  head 
and  laughed  a  hearty,  contented  laugh. 

Mr.  Awtry  regarded  Mr.  Sanders  with  a 
puzzled  expression.  "  Did  you  say  the  joke  had 
two  points  ? "  he  asked. 

"Why,  certain  an'  shore,"  responded  Mr.  San- 
ders, with  alacrity.  "You've  seed  cows,  maybe, 

185 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

wi'  no  horns,  but  you  never  seed  one  made  like 
a  rhinossyhoss." 

At  this,  Mr.  Lincoln  laughed  unrestrainedly. 
Whatever  reserve  the  shadow  of  care  and  trouble 
had  cast  over  him  when  he  entered  the  room  had 
been  driven  entirely  away,  and  his  visitors  had  a 
very  close  and  intimate  view  of « the  real  Lincoln, 
the  man  of  the  people.  At  last,  when  it  seemed 
time  for  them  to  go,  Mr.  Awtry  remarked :  — 

"  The  reason  I  took  the  liberty  of  bringing  these 
gentlemen  here  was  that  some  of  Mr.  Stanton's 
men  were  preparing  to  arrest  them." 

"You  did  exactly  right,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln, 
emphatically.  "  I'm  willing  for  Stanton  to  have 
his  fingers  in  all  the  pies  if  he'll  let  me  break 
the  crust  in  places." 

"  Well,  at  the  pace  he's  going,  he'll  soon  have 
the  whole  thing  in  his  own  hands,"  remarked  Mr. 
Awtry. 

"The  whole  thing,  as  you  call  it,"  replied  Mr. 
Lincoln,  levelling  a  searching  glance  at  the  young 
man,  "  couldn't  be  in  better  hands.  I'm  told  every 
day  that  Mr.  Stanton  has  small  respect  for  the 
President,  and  I  reckon  that's  so;  but  the  Presi- 
dent is  willing  to  rock  along  on  a  small  allowance 
of  respect  when  he's  getting  a  steady  supply  of 
the  kind  of  work  Stanton  is  doing  day  and  night." 

"  That's  so,"  remarked  Mr.  Sanders,  judicially 
1 86 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

"Was  Mr.  Stanton  the  man  that  followed  you 
in  here  ? " 

Receiving  an  affirmative  answer,  Mr.  Sanders 
went  on,  "  I  allowed  so  from  his  walk  an'  talk ; 
but  the  way  you  played  wi'  him  put  me  in  mind 
of  the  feller  an'  his  trained  dog." 

"  How  was  that  ? "  asked  Mr.  Lincoln,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair  and  twisting  his  long  legs 
together  in  most  curious  fashion.  Every  trace 
of  fatigue  and  worry  had  vanished  from  his  face. 

"  Well,  it  was  like  this :  A  feller  down  our  way 
had  a  houn'  dog  that  he  thought  was  the  finest 
pup  in  all  creation.  He  was  good  for  foxes,  good 
for  minks,  good  for  rabbits,  good  for  coons,  an' 
'specially  for  'possums.  Natchully,  the  feller  was 
constant  a-braggin'  on  the  dog.  Well,  one  day 
the  feller  had  company  at  his  house.  The  dog 
was  lyin'  in  a  corner  of  the  fireplace,  an'  presently 
the  feller  got  to  braggin'  on  him.  He  said  the 
dog  was  both  trained  and  domesticated.  'That 
dog,'  he  says  to  his  company,  'will  do  anything 
in  the  world  I  tell  him  to  do.'  The  company 
sorter  doubted  about  it,  an'  the  feller  ups  an'  says, 
'  Rover,  git  up  from  there  an'  go  out  of  here.' 
Rover,  hearin'  his  name,  hit  the  floor  a  lick  or  two 
wi'  his  tail,  an'  drapt  off  to  sleep  ag'in.  The  feller 
hollered  a  little  louder,  '  Rover,  don't  you  hear  ? 
Git  up  from  there  an'  go  out  of  here.'  Rover  got 
187 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

up,  looked  at  the  feller  like  he  thought  he  was 
crazy,  an'  sneaked  under  the  bed.  Well,  the  com- 
pany laughed  consider'ble.  But  the  feller  stuck 
to  his  statements.  Says  he,  'There's  a  mighty 
good  understandin'  between  me  an'  Rover.  He 
knows  when  I'm  playin',  an'  besides,  he's  a  plum 
hurrycane  when  it  comes  to  runnin'  coons  up  a 
tree.' " 

Mr.  Lincoln  laughed  and  looked  at  Mr.  Sanders 
with  a  quizzical  expression.  Just  then  there  came 
a  rap  on  the  door.  The  President  arose,  made 
two  long  strides  across  the  room,  and  threw  the 
door  open. 

"  Mr.  President,  I  heard  something  awhile  ago, 
and  I  think  you  should  be  told  about  it,"  said  the 
newcomer,  excitedly. 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"Why,  when  Mr.  Stanton  went  out  just  now,  I 
heard  him  say  you  were  a  d d  fool." 

"  Did  you  hear  him  say  it  ? "  Mr.  Lincoln  asked. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  President ;  I  heard  him  with  my  own 
ears." 

"Well,  if  Stanton  said  that,  I  reckon  there  must 
be  something  in  it.  He  usually  knows  what  he's 
talking  about.  I  thought  you  had  some  news  for 
me." 

"  Good  heavens,  Mr.  President !  "  exclaimed  the 
person  at  the  door. 

1 88 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  solemnly,  "  good  heav- 
ens and  good  night !  " 

Bethune  sat  with  clenched  hands.  He  could 
hardly  believe  what  he  had  heard.  He  was  dazed. 
He  drew  a  long  breath,  arose  from  his  chair  and 
took  a  quick  turn  about  the  room. 

Mr.  Lincoln  observed  the  young  man's  excite- 
ment. He  paused  before  he  seated  himself,  and 
turned  to  Bethune  with  a  smile  that  did  not  drive 
away  the  expression  of  sadness  which  had  returned 
to  his  face.  "  What  would  happen  if  one  of  Mr. 
Davis's  advisers  should  make  a  similar  statement? " 
he  asked. 

Bethune  replied,  with  gleaming  eyes,  "  Mr. 
President,  the  man  who  heard  the  remark  would 
knock  the  scoundrel  down  and  afterward  call  him 
out." 

"  I  reckon  that's  so.  Mr.  Davis  has  more  close 
friends  than  I  have,"  remarked  Mr.  Lincoln 
with  a  sigh.  He  seated  himself  and  closed  his 
eyes. 

"  It  ain't  so  much  bein'  friends,"  said  Mr. 
Sanders,  somewhat  cheerfully,  though  in  his  honest 
Georgia  heart  he  deeply  pitied  the  President,  and 
understood  why  he  was  lonely  and  sometimes 
melancholy  —  "it  ain't  so  much  bein'  friends,  it's 
because  we're  all  on  high  hosses  down  yan,  from 
daybreak  till  bed-time." 

189 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"Well,  I  wish  — "  Mr.  Lincoln  paused  and 
looked  in  the  fire. 

Mr.  Sanders  seized  the  remark  and  finished  it. 
"  You  wish  some  un'd  git  on  a  high  hoss  for  you  ? 
Well,  sir,  if  at  any  time  I'm  aroun',  an'  any  of  your 
fellers  begin  for  to  give  you  too  much  lip,  jest  turn 
around  to  me  an'  say,  '  Friend  Sanders,  what  do 
you  think  of  the  state  of  the  country  an'  the  craps 
in  general  ? '  You  say  them  words,  Mr.  President, 
an'  if  I  don't  make  the  feller  say  his  pra'rs  to  you, 
you  may  call  me  a  humbug.  Down  our  way  they 
say  you're  a  Yankee,  but  if  that's  so,  the  woods 
is  full  of  Yankees  in  Georgia,  all  born  an'  raised 
right  there." 

Mr.  Lincoln  laughed  with  real  enjoyment. 
"You're  paying  me  the  highest  compliment  I 
have  had  in  many  a  day,"  he  said.  "  But  we  can't 
sit  here  palavering  all  night."  He  tapped  a  bell 
and  a  messenger  appeared.  "See  if  the  ladies 
have  gone  to  bed." 

Word  soon  came  back  that  the  ladies  were  tak- 
ing a  light  refreshment,  and  would  the  President 
join  them  ? 

"  I  want  you  gentlemen  to  see  what  sort  of  a 
job  you  have  undertaken,"  Mr.  Lincoln  remarked 
dryly.  "  I  can  manage  a  mule  or  a  steer  pretty 
well,  but  not  a  wilful  woman." 

"Amen!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders  with  unction 
190 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

The  President  led  the  way,  followed  by  Bethune 
and  Mr.  Sanders,  Mr.  Awtry  saying  he  would  wait 
for  their  return.  Before  they  reached  the  room 
where  the  ladies  were,  the  laughter  and  chatter 
of  Elise  Clopton  could  be  heard.  She  was  in  high 
glee.  Francis  Bethune  never  knew  until  that  hour 
why  he  disliked  his  aunt.  It  was  the  uncertainty 
and  absurdity  of  her  temperament.  One  moment 
she  was  taking  herself  more  seriously  than  a  hero- 
ine of  romance,  the  next  she  had  plunged  headfore- 
most into  —  well,  into  inconsequence. 

She  was  as  truly  herself  here,  practically  a  pris- 
oner, as  if  she  had  been  at  once  queen  and  house- 
maid. She  had  met  Bethune's  uncle  by  accident, 
while  he  was  passing  through  Washington  on  his 
way  to  Harvard.  She,  herself,  was  on  her  way  to 
a  young  ladies'  school  in  Baltimore.  Neither  one 
of  them  got  any  farther.  The  result  of  half  an 
hour's  conversation,  while  waiting  for  the  train  to 
leave,  was  an  elopement.  In  a  year  or  two  her 
husband  was  dead,  but  her  bereavement  had  not 
sobered  Elise.  At  thirty-five  she  was  still  as  beau- 
tiful and  as  lacking  in  judgment  as  when  a  miss  of 
sixteen. 

When  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders  were  ushered 

into  the  room,  Elise  clapped  her  hands  together  as 

the  soubrettes  do  on  the  stage,  gave  a  smothered 

scream,  supposed  to  represent  joy,  and  fell  upon 

191 


ON  THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

Francis  Bethune  and  kissed  him  until  he  wished 
himself  well  out  of  the  uncomfortable  position. 

"  Francis !  "  she  cried,  "  allow  me  to  present  you 
to  my  dear,  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Lincoln.  My  nephew, 
Mrs.  Lincoln.  And  here  is  Mr.  Sanders !  Oh,  you 
dear,  good  man !  you  make  me  feel  quite  at  home. 
Mrs.  Lincoln,  this  is  my  dear  old  friend,  Mr.  San- 
ders. Are  both  of  you  prisoners,  too  ?  Oh,  isn't 
it  glorious  to  suffer  for  one's  country  ? " 

Bethune  looked  at  Mr.  Lincoln.  The  President 
was  standing  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him. 
He  was  not  smiling,  but  there  was  a  comical 
expression  on  his  face.  Mrs.  Lincoln  was  laugh- 
ing unrestrainedly,  and  it  was  very  evident  to 
Bethune  that  the  lady  of  the  White  House  had 
found  Elise  Clopton  sufficiently  amusing.  His 
irritation  was  such  that  he  could  scarcely  refrain 
from  showing  it  in  words.  Youngster  as  he  was, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  the  whole  South  was  here  on 
exhibition  in  the  person  of  his  frivolous  aunt.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  saying  something  regrettable 
when  Mr.  Sanders  stepped  in,  as  it  were. 

"You  don't  look  like  you've  been  sufferin'  for 
your  country  much.  Appearances  is  mighty  de- 
ceivin'  if  you  ain't  been  havin'  three  square  meals 
a  day,  fried  meat  an'  biscuit,  an'  hot  coffee  for 
breakfast,  collards  an'  dumplin's  an'  buttermilk 
for  dinner,  an'  ashcake  an'  molasses  for  supper." 

192 


THE  KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

"You  see  how  the  men  mistake  us,"  protested 
Elise,  turning  to  Mrs.  Lincoln.  "Our  keenest 
anguish  is  mental,  but  the  men  never  think  they 
are  suffering  unless  they  are  in  physical  pain. 
And  the  men  think  the  women  are  too  timid  to 
take  any  risks.  Look  at  me,  Mr.  Sanders." 

"  I  see  you,  Leese,"  said  Mr.  Sanders,  so  dryly 
that  Mrs.  Lincoln  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Don't  mind  him,  dear  friend ;  he  always  was 
comical.  And  then  there  was  your  grandmother, 
Mr.  Sanders,  Nancy  Hart.  Didn't  she  suffer  for 
her  country  ? " 

"  She  stayed  at  home  an'  hit  the  Tories  a  lick 
when  they  pestered  her,  two  for  one,  maybe ;  but 
she  didn't  complain  of  no  sufferin',  so  fur  as  I 
know.  The  sufferin'  was  all  wi'  them  that  pes- 
tered her.  Anyhow,  we've  come  to  take  you 
home,  an'  when  we  git  there  I'm  goin'  to  build  a 
pen  to  keep  you  in.  Goodness  knows,  I  don't  want 
to  be  runnin'  my  head  in  no  more  hornets'  nest." 

"Why,  you  don't  call  this  a  hornets'  nest,  I 
hope,"  said  Mrs.  Lincoln,  smiling. 

"By  no  manner  of  means,  mum,"  replied  Mr. 
Sanders  with  a  bow.  "  This  is  the  only  homelike 
place  I've  struck  sence  I  left  Shady  Dale.  But  I 
hear  you're  a  Southerner,  an'  Mr.  Lincoln  is 
Georgy  all  over,  an'  that  accounts  for  it.  If  we 
wa'n't  here,  where'd  we  be?" 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"Well,  we'll  go  back  now  and  talk  about 
Georgia,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln.  "To-morrow  or  the 
next  day  we'll  arrange  about  the  lady's  journey 
home." 

"  Yes ;  I  am  willing  to  go  now,"  said  Elise, 
dramatically ;  "  I  have  performed  my  duty ;  I 
have  risked  my  life  for  my  native  Southland." 

"  If  you  only  knew  what  a  close  call  it  was,  you'd 
doubtless  be  prouder  still,  I  reckon,"  remarked  Mr. 
Lincoln  with  a  smile.  With  that  Bethune  and  Mr. 
Sanders  bade  the  ladies  good  night  and  followed 
the  President  to  his  private  office,  where  Waldron 
Awtry  awaited  them.  They  were  for  returning  to 
the  hotel  at  once,  as  the  hour  was  growing  late,  but 
Mr.  Lincoln  would  not  hear  to  it  unless  they  were 
willing  to  admit  that  they  were  tired  of  his  com- 
pany. There  were  nights,  he  said,  when  sleep 
flitted  away  from  his  neighbourhood,  and  refused 
to  be  coaxed  back,  and  this,  he  thought,  would 
prove  to  be  one  of  those  nights. 

First  he  wrote  out  a  new  certificate  for  Francis 
Bethune,  as  well  as  a  document  to  insure  the  safety 
of  Mr.  Sanders,  and  then  he  began  to  talk  about 
Georgia  sure  enough,  addressing  his  conversation 
mainly  to  Mr.  Sanders,  whose  comments  he  ap- 
peared thoroughly  to  enjoy.  He  asked  about  the 
people,  their  views  and  hopes.  Once  he  declared 
that  if  the  people  of  the  South  knew  his  intentions 

194 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

and  desires  as  well  as  he  did  himself,  he  believed 
they  would  put  an  end  to  the  war,  and  come  back 
into  the  Union. 

"  But  what  about  the  politicians  ? "  calmly  in- 
quired Mr.  Sanders. 

"That's  a  fact!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lincoln;  "the 
politicians  and  the  editors.  We  have  'em  here, 
too.  Oh,  I  was  just  telling  you  of  a  dream  I  once 
had." 

"  An'  then,  ag'in,  you're  a  Ab'litionist,  Mr.  Presi- 
dent," said  Mr.  Sanders. 

"  Well,  that  matter  has  been  settled,  so  far  as  I 
can  settle  it,  but,  up  to  a  few  months  ago,  that 
question  was  a  mere  matter  of  moonshine  com- 
pared to  the  Union.  I  said  as  much  to  Horace 
Greeley,  and  he  and  his  friends  had  a  good  many 
duck-fits  about  it.  All  the  Government  doors  have 
big  keyholes  except  Stanton's.  Well,  Abolitionism 
was  a  great  question,  but  it  was  small  compared 
with  the  preservation  of  the  Union.  All  other 
political  questions  are  small  by  the  side  of  that." 

They  talked  until  some  time  after  midnight, 
with  occasional  interruptions  from  messengers 
connected  with  the  War  Department,  or  with 
some  of  the  committees  of  Congress.  Once  Mr. 
Lincoln,  after  receiving  a  telegram,  held  it  open 
in  his  hand,  and  was  silent  a  long  time.  Finally 
he  folded  it  lengthwise  m^.ny  times,  and  then 

'95 


ON   THE   WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

wrapped  it  around  his  forefinger,  holding  it  in 
place  with  his  thumb. 

"  It  has  got  so  now,"  he  said,  breaking  the 
silence,  "that  I  can  tell  by  the  rumble  of  the 
wheels  whether  the  man  in  the  carriage  is  fetch- 
ing good  news  or  bad." 

The  President  made  no  remark  about  the  con- 
tents of  the  telegram,  but  he  fell  into  such  a  state 
of  abstraction  that  Bethune  nodded  to  the  others, 
and  simultaneously  they  all  arose  and  bade  him 
good  night.  He  no  longer  urged  them  to  stay, 
but  asked  them  to  return  early  the  next  day,  say- 
ing that  he  wanted  to  have  a  good  long  talk  with 
"  friend  Sanders." 


Ill 


When  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders  went  to  break- 
fast the  next  morning,  they  were  escorted  to  a  table 
at  which  sat  John  Omahundro,  who  saluted  them 
in  the  most  familiar  manner.  Bethune,  whose 
temperament  lacked  that  off-hand  heartiness  which 
is  sometimes  attractive  and  sometimes  repelling, 
bowed  coldly.  Mr.  Sanders,  who  was  heartiness 
itself  on  almost  every  occasion,  smiled  vacantly 
at  Omahundro,  remarking,  "  I've  seed  your  face 
some'r's,  I  reely  do  believe." 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  Omahundro  in  his  drawl- 
196 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

ing  voice,  "I  travelled  with  you  from  Albany  to 
New  York." 

"  That's  so  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders  ;  "  you're 
the  feller  that  helt  the  'oman's  baby  while  she  give 
it  caster-ile.  Well,  you're  a  mighty  handy  man, 
but  I've  been  in  sech  a  buzz  an'  racket,  an'  seed 
so  many  folks,  that  I'd  never  'a'  know'd  you 
ag'in." 

They  talked  on  indifferent  subjects  until  the 
meal  had  been  despatched,  and  then  they  sat 
in  the  reading-room  of  the  hotel  and  talked 
business. 

"  What  about  your  programme  ? "  inquired  Oma- 
hundro.  "  It's  foolhardy,  but  I'm  willing  to  go 
into  it  on  conditions  —  I  mean  this  kidnapping 
business." 

"  It's  as  easy  as  falling  off  a  log,"  replied  Bethune. 

"  Lots  easier,"  remarked  Mr.  Sanders ;  "but — " 

"  Now  you're  beginning  to  say  something.  But 
—  but  how  are  you  going  to  get  away  ?  You  don't 
know  a  step  of  the  road.  How  are  you  going  to 
get  Mr.  Lincoln  safely  to  the  South  ? " 

"Trust  to  luck,  I  reckon,"  replied  Bethune. 

"What  I  was  try  in'  to  say  when  you  jumped  in 
betwixt  me  an'  my  words  was  that  'ne  job  is  easy, 
but  'twould  be  a  pity  to  put  it  through." 

"  You've  said  something  again,"  remarked  Oma- 
hundro.  "  Mr.  Lincoln  has  the  hardest  time  of 

197 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

any  human  being  I  ever  saw.  He  reminds  me  of 
my  father." 

"  He  puts  me  in  mind  of  all  the  good  men 
I've  ever  know'd.  He  takes  'em  all  in,"  said 
Mr.  Sanders. 

"  He's  a  good  deal  like  you,"  Bethune  declared. 

"Well,  I  wish  to  the  Lord  I  was  more  like  him," 
said  Mr.  Sanders,  solemnly.  "  I'll  tell  you  what, 
fellers,  that  man  has  looked  trouble  in  the  eye  so 
long  that  he  pities  ev'rybody  in  the  world  but  his- 
self.  Frank,  I'll  go  into  this  business  if  you'll  le' 
me  do  the  engineerin'  —  if  you'll  put  it  in  my 
hands." 

"  Oh,  I've  no  objection  to  that,"  assented  Be- 
thune, with  a  short  laugh.  "  He's  so  different  from 
what  I  expected.  By  George !  don't  you  believe 
it  would  break  his  heart  to  be  taken  away  from 
here?" 

Mr.  Sanders  pursed  up  his  mouth  and  looked  at 
the  ceiling.  "  No-o-o,  'twouldn't  break  his  heart," 
he  announced,  after  some  reflection.  "  He's  a 
good,  strong  man,  an'  from  the  look  he  has  in  his 
eye,  he's  seen  so  much  trouble  that  he's  ready 
to  shake  hands  wi'  it  wherever  he  meets  it, 
knowin'  purty  well  that  he'll  git  some  fun  out'n 
it  somehow  or  somewheres.  You  leave  it  to  me, 
Frank  —  leave  it  to  me." 

"Well,"  said  Omahundro,  "if  it's  to  be  done, 
198 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

to-morrow  night  is  the  time,  between  ten  and 
twelve  —  the  nearer  ten  the  better.  Mr.  Stanton 
usually  calls  about  half-past  twelve  or  one.  Mr. 
Lincoln  may  ask  you  to  stay  to  supper.  If  he 
does,  say  yes,  and  thanky,  too.  If  you  take  sup- 
per here,  a  carriage  will  be  waiting  for  you  at  the 
door.  If  there  is  more  than  one  vehicle  near  the 
hotel  entrance,  the  driver  on  your  carriage  will 
say,  '  Whoa,  Billy  ! '  If  you  don't  take  supper 
here,  the  carriage  will  drive  into  the  White  House 
grounds  precisely  at  ten  o'clock.  The  driver  of 
the  carriage  will  stay  with  it  until  he  hears  pur- 
suers, or  until  you  meet  another  conveyance  in  the 
road  driven  by  a  country  chap.  If  you  are  pur- 
sued, one  of  you  must  be  on  the  driver's  seat  to 
take  the  lines  when  my  man  retires,  and  then 
you'll  have  to  take  the  consequences,  and  get  out 
the  best  way  you  can.  I  tell  you  candidly,  I  don't 
see  how  you  are  going  to  get  out  with  the  Presi- 
dent, and  but  for  orders  from  Captain  McCarthy, 
I  wouldn't  make  a  move  in  it.  I'm  fond  of  Mr. 
Lincoln  ;  I  feel  like  he's  kin  to  me." 

"  Well,  there  are  bigger  principles  at  issue  than 
kinfolks  and  Presidents,"  remarked  Bethune,  with 
some  emphasis. 

"  That's  so,"  assented  Mr.  Sanders ;  "  but  I  wish 
from  my  heart  he  was  more  like  some  of  the  other 
Presidents  we  have  had  in  North  Ameriky." 

'99 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  Good  night,"  said  Omahundro.  "  We  may  never 
see  one  another  again.  I'm  going  to  help  you 
out  all  I  can,  but  I  can't  say  that  I  wish  for  your 
success." 

"  Nor  me,  nuther,"  commented  Mr.  Sanders. 

The  next  day  found  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders 
at  the  White  House.  While  Mr.  Lincoln  was  busy, 
they  walked  about  the  grounds  with  Elise  Clopton. 
They  were  not  in  a  very  gay  humour,  as  may  well 
be  supposed,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  their  minds  to 
listen  to  the  lady's  chatter.  She  related  her  expe- 
riences from  the  time  she  left  Shady  Dale  to  visit 
her  family  in  Maryland,  and  if  her  reports  were 
correct,  she  had  been  through  many  daring  adven- 
tures. She  was  quite  a  heroine  in  her  own  estima- 
tion, and  there  is  no  doubt  that,  frivolous  and  giddy 
as  she  was,  she  possessed  both  courage  and  pres- 
ence of  mind.  Mr.  Stanton  paid  her  a  high  tribute 
when  he  told  Mr.  Lincoln  that  she  was  quite  the 
most  dangerous  and  daring  spy  that  had  operated 
around  Washington,  and  he  wanted  to  make  an 
example  of  her. 

As  Mr.  Sanders  remarked  on  more  than  one 
occasion,  there  were  good  points  about  the  lady  if 
you  didn't  have  to  live  on  the  same  lot  with  her. 
Curiously  enough,  she  had  conceived  a  romantic 
friendship  for  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"  Isn't  he  the  dearest  man  ? "  she  said  to  hei 
200 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

companions  as  they  strolled  about,  enjoying  the 
warm  sunshine.  "  I  think  he  is  just  grand.  I  am 
dead  in  love  with  him.  Oh,  he  is  the  most  fas- 
cinating human  being  I  ever  saw.  I  used  to  hate 
him  "  —  clasping  her  hands  and  throwing  her  head 
back  —  "  and  now  I  love  him.  How  can  our  news- 
papers abuse  him  as  they  do  ?  " 

Presently  Tad,  Mr.  Lincoln's  little  son,  came 
from  the  rear  of  the  house  with  his  goats,  and  was 
soon  joined  by  his  father,  who  was  assiduous  in  his 
attentions  to  the  lad.  Elise  wanted  to  go  where 
they  were. 

"Now,  Leese,  don't  let's  make  geese  of  our- 
selves," said  Mr.  Sanders.  "The  man  hardly 
has  time  to  speak  to  his  family.  Let  him 
alone." 

"  Oh,  don't  you  believe  that,"  said  Elise.  "Why, 
he's  the  most  devoted  man  to  his  family  I  ever 
saw.  He  allows  them  to  impose  on  him  right  and 
left.  It's  perfectly  grand  to  see  how  patient  he  is. 
And  look  at  that  child's  clothes ;  see  what  a  misfit 
they  are." 

"It's  the  fashion,  I  reckon,"  responded  Mr. 
Sanders. 

Elise  laughed  merrily.  "  The  fashion  !  why, 
the  world  never  saw  such  a  fashion  as  that." 

"  Well,  a  President  and  his  family  don't  have 
to  be  in  the  fashion.  When  it  comes  to  that, 

201 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

they're   mighty  nigh    as    independent   as   me,  I 
reckon." 

The  President  heard  Elise  Clopton  laugh,  and 
seeing  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders  with  her,  joined 
the  group,  Tad  following  with  his  horned  team. 

"You  seem  to  be  worried  this  morning,  Mr. 
Lincoln,"  said  Elise,  with  one  of  her  brightest 
smiles. 

"Yes;  we  all  have  to  worry  about  something, 
at  some  time  or  other,"  replied  the  President. 
"  There's  a  man  down  in  Tennessee  they  are  try. 
ing  to  hang  because  he  wandered  off  from  camp 
one  night,  and  his  mother's  at  this  end  of  the  line 
crying  her  eyes  out.  I've  spent  half  the  morning 
trying  to  get  a  despatch  to  the  officer  in  command. 
Before  they  hang  or  shoot  the  boy  I  want  to  see 
the  record.  But  it's  all  right  now,"  he  said  with  a 
sigh. 

They  walked  a  little  while  in  silence.  Finally 
Mr.  Lincoln  turned  to  Mr.  Sanders.  "  Does  your 
President  have  much  opposition  ?  " 

"  Not  among  them  that  he  can  get  his  hands  on. 
But  Joe  Brown  is  after  him  with  a  sharp  stick,  and 
Bob  Toombs  rares  around,  and  they  manage  to 
keep  the  water  warm,  if  not  a-b'iiin'.  The  states' 
rights  plaster  does  purty  well  when  you  slap  it  on 
some  un  else,  but  when  the  other  feller  slaps  one 
onto  you,  it  burns  like  fire." 

202 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

"  How  is  that  ? "  Mr.  Lincoln  asked,  his  eyes 
fairly  dancing  with  amusement. 

"  Well,  Jeff  Davis  was  put  in  to  slap  the  states' 
rights  plaster  onto  you-all,  an'  now  he  can't  hardly 
git  a  law  passed  but  what  Joe  Brown  bobs  up  wi* 
a  states'  rights  plaster  an'  slaps  it  onto  Mr. 
Davis."  Mr.  Lincoln  roared  with  laughter.  "  I 
don't  think  it's  fair,"  Mr.  Sanders  went  on,  "but 
some  of  the  boys  apperiently  git  a  good  deal  of  fun 
out'n  it."  i* 

The  President's  unrestrained  laughter  attracted 
the  attention  of  Tad,  who  left  his  goats  to  the 
temporary  care  of  Elise  and  went  running  to 
Mr.  Sanders.  "I  wish  you'd  stay  here  all  the 
time,"  he  said  in  a  pleading  tone. 

"What  for,  I'd  like  to  know?"  inquired  Mr. 
Sanders,  lifting  the  lad  in  his  strong  arms. 

"  Because  you  make  papa  laugh,"  replied  Tad. 
"He  laughs  that  way  with  me  sometimes,  but  I 
want  to  hear  him  laugh  that  way  when  he's  with 
grown  people." 

"  That  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  little  chap  that 
wanted  a  candy  elephant,"  said  Mr.  Sanders. 
"  He  worried  about  it  so  till  his  pappy  sent  off  and 
bought  a  dollar's  worth  of  sugar,  an'  his  mammy 
put  it  in  the  preserve  kettle,  poured  in  a  couple  of 
gourdfuls  of  water,  an'  stewed  it  down,  an'  then, 
after  so  long  a  time,  took  it  out,  pulled  it  the  best 

203 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

she  could,  an'  then  built  it  up  into  some  kind  of 
animal  that  a  blind  man  might  take  to  be  a  rough 
imitation  of  a  wooden  elephant.  Then  she  called 
in  the  little  chap  an'  turned  the  elephant  over  to 
him.  Well,  he  took  this  elephant  out  to  the  wood- 
shed an'  started  in  on  him,  but  he  hadn't  gnawed 
his  way  no  furder  than  one  of  the  hind  legs  till 
he  was  the  sickest  boy  you  ever  saw ;  an'  after 
that  he'd  turn  pale  and  cry  if  anybody  so  much  as 
said  '  candy  elephant '  to  him." 

"  And  no  wonder !  "  exclaimed  Tad. 

"That's  a  fact,"  responded  Mr.  Sanders;  "no 
wonder.  An'  I  wouldn't  be  here  a  week  before, 
your  pappy  would  pull  out  his  hankcher  an*  cry 
if  he  so  much  as  heard  the  name  of  Sanders." 

"  Would  you  ? "  cried  Tad,  turning  to  his  f  atli^r. 

"Why,  certainly  not,"  replied  the  President. 
Satisfied,  the  lad  slipped  from  Mr.  Sanders's  arms 
and  went  skipping  to  his  goats.  "  I'll  tell  you  the 
truth,  my  friend,"  Mr.  Lincoln  went  on,  laying  a 
familiar  hand  on  Mr.  Sanders's  shoulder,  "you 
have  no  idea  what  a  joyous  relief  it  is  to  meet 
a  man  who  knows  how  to  say  things,  and  who 
doesn't  want  a  post-office  for  himself,  or  his  wife's 
cousin,  or  who  doesn't  want  to  take  command  of 
all  the  armies  in  the  field,  or  take  entire  charge  of 
the  Government,  or  who  hasn't  some  complaint  to 
make,  or  some  objection  to  offer — why,  it's  like 

204 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

seeing  the  sun  again  after  a  couple  of  months  of 
rainy  weather." 

"  I  reckon  it's  wuss  now  than  ever  before,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Sanders.  They  were  walking  along 
together,  Bethune  having  lagged  behind,  intent  on 
his  own  reflections. 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln.  "  If  it 
wasn't  for  Stanton,  who  likes  to  have  his  hand  in 
everything,  I  don't  know  what  I'd  do.  He  can 
stand  up  to  more  hard  work  and  worry  than  any 
man  I  ever  saw.  Now,  if  you  had  a  machine  full 
of  intelligence  that  was  greedy  for  all  the  work 
you  could  pour  into  the  hopper,  you  wouldn't  mind 
it  much  if  it  pinched  your  fingers  once  in  a  while, 
or  took  off  a  finger-nail  now  and  then,  would  you  ? " 

"  I  jest  reckon  not,"  responded  Mr.  Sanders, 
with  emphasis. 

"Well,  that  is  the  reason  I  take  no  offence 
when  Stanton  cusses  me  out  behind  my  back,  or 
when  he  cuts  up  his  capers  before  my  face." 

"  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Sanders.  "  When  you  want 
to  bluff  some  feller  that's  a  little  too  smart,  you 
fetch  out  Stanton.  It  puts  me  in  mind,  in  some 
ways,  of  Roach's  race-hoss." 

"  How  was  that  ?  "  Mr.  Lincoln  inquired. 

"Why,  there  was  a  young  chap  in  our  settle- 
ment by  the  name  of  Waters,  an'  he  had  a  quarter- 
boss  that  he  vowed  an'  declared:  could  outrun  any* 
205 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

thing  on  four  legs,  includin'  a  steam  engine.  Well, 
he  bragged  about  his  hoss  and  went  on  so  that 
one  day  old  man  Johnny  Roach,  who  had  about  a 
thimbleful  too  much  of  dram,  up'd  and  said  he  had 
a  racer  that  could  beat  Waters's  hoss  so  fur  that 
he'd  turn  an'  meet  him  halfway  comin'  back. 
Waters  bantered  him  for  a  bet  an'  a  trial,  an'  he 
got  both.  They  set  the  day,  an'  when  the  time 
come  Waters  was  there  with  his  pony,  an'  pres- 
ently Uncle  Johnny's  youngest  boy  come  gallopin' 
up  on  a  steer. 

"  Now,  ev'rybody  in  the  county  know'd  the  steer. 
He  was  old  as  the  hills,  but  he  was  game,  an'  his 
horns  was  a  plum  cur'osity.  From  the  p'int  of 
one  to  the  p'int  of  t'other  was  mighty  nigh  nine 
feet,  an'  he  had  a  way  of  shakin'  'em  that  made 
folks  stan'  'roun'. 

"  Waters  began  to  take  water  right  off.  Says 
he,  '  That  ain't  no  hoss.' 

"'I  never  said  he  was  a  hoss,'  says  old  man 
Johnny;  'I  said  he  was  a  racer.' 

" '  Well,  he  ain't  no  racer,'  says  Waters. 

"  'That's  yit  to  be  decided,'  says  Johnny  Roach. 
'The  money's  up,'  says  he,  '  an'  I'm  gwine  to  walk 
off  wi'  it' 

"Waters  hummed  and  hawed,  but  it  didn't  do 
no  good.  '  Git  ready ! '  says  old  man  Roach. 
'Some  of  you  men  give  the  word.' 

206 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

"  '  Well,'  says  Waters,  '  I  dunner  whether  your 
steer  can  run  or  not ;  beat  or  git  beat,  he's  liable 
to  do  some  damage,  an'  I'll  not  run  my  hoss  ag'in 
him.' 

"  So  Roach's  boy  rode  the  steer  over  the  course, 
an'  old  man  Johnny  poled  off  home  with  the  stakes 
in  his  pocket." 

Mr.  Lincoln  seemed  to  enjoy  this  anecdote  very 
much.  He  said  there  was  a  very  pungent  moral 
in  it  which  could  be  given  a  variety  of  applications, 
and  he  forthwith  added  it  to  his  already  large  col- 
lection of  stories. 

All  this  while  Bethune  was  wandering  about  the 
lawn  with  head  hung  down  like  a  boy  with  the 
pouts.  He  was  thinking  hard,  and  his  thoughts 
were  not  pleasant  ones.  Nan  Dorrington  gazed 
at  him  through  the  mists  of  memory  with  sad  eyes. 
Of  the  many  familiar  faces  he  could  remember, 
only  one  seemed  to  wear  a  smile  —  and  that  was 
the  face  of  Miss  Puella  Gillum.  Bethune  came  to 
Washington,  it  will  be  remembered,  to  seize  and 
carry  off  the  President.  He  had,  in  fact,  hit  upon 
the  only  plan  which  was  in  the  least  likely  to  para- 
lyse the  North,  bring  about  peace,  and  establish 
the  Confederacy.  Though  the  Georgian  was  a 
young  man,  he  had  tolerably  fair  judgment ;  and 
he  had  already  seen  that  this  patient,  kindly  man, 
with  the  bright  smile  and  sad  eyes,  with  Melan- 
207 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

choly  at  one  elbow  and  Mirth  at  the  other,  was  the 
sole  mainstay  and  reliance  of  the  vast  machine 
that  was  carrying  on  the  war;  that  but  for  his  pre- 
vision and  tact,  the  halls  of  the  Capitol  and  the 
corridors  of  the  departments  would  swarm  with 
relentless  and  ruinous  factions. 

It  was  true  that  Bethune's  head  was  full  of 
romantic  notions.  He  had  descended  from  a  chiv- 
alrous race,  and  had  been  reared  in  a  region  where 
chivalry  and  knightly  courtesy  were  very  real 
things  to  those  who  aspired  to  them,  and  he  now 
felt  himself  pulled  about  by  conflicting  emotions. 
He  was  keen  to  perform  some  feat  or  accomplish 
some  result  that  would  advance  the  Southern 
cause,  and  here  was  the  opportunity.  And  yet 
the  bare  idea  of  carrying  it  out  left  a  bad  taste 
in  his  mouth.  He  was  at  war  with  himself.  He 
felt,  in  a  dim,  vague  way,  that  the  President  was 
the  heart  of  a  mystery,  the  centre  of  a  wonderful 
problem.  As  in  an  old  picture,  a  light  from  some 
unseen  source  appeared  to  fall  on  the  worn  face  of 
this  man,  who,  born  with  "  the  wolf  at  the  door  " 
and  in  the  most  abject  surroundings,  had  been 
lifted  up  to  guide  the  nation. 

Bethune  had  been  so  wrapped  up  in  his  own 
reflections  that  his  Aunt  Elise  could  hardly  make 
him  hear  when  she  called  him.  He  lifted  his 
head  and  sighed,  and  then  a  frown  fell  an  his  face 

208 


THE  KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

as  he  realised  that  she  was  speaking  to  him.  Her 
frivolity  irritated  him,  her  gushing  volubility  op- 
pressed him. 

"  Frank !  oh,  Frank !  "  she  called,  laughing ; 
"pray  stop  thinking  about  your  sweetheart,  and 
come  with  me.  The  President  told  me  I  was  not 
to  go  outside  the  gates.  But  I'm  going  now  just 
to  see  what  he'll  say.  Won't  you  come  with 
me  ? " 

For  answer  Bethune  turned  sharply  away  from 
his  aunt.  She  ran  after  him.  "  Don't  be  so  cross, 
Frank !  "  she  cried.  "  It's  not  becoming  to  you. 
I  wasn't  going  at  all.  Do  be  pleasant.  You  and 
old  Billy  Sanders,  between  you,  will  cause  the 
people  here  to  think  I  have  no  standing  in  my 
own  family.  Both  of  you  are  very  rude.  What 
have  I  done  to  deserve  it  ? " 

This  last  remark  was  spoken  with  some  show 
of  temper,  for  the  beautiful  Elise  could  be  spiteful 
at  times. 

"  Nothing,  Aunt  Elise,"  replied  Bethune ;  "  but 
in  your  position  a  little  more  dignity  would  be 
suitable." 

Elise  laughed  loudly,  but  her  face  was  red  with 
indignation.  "  A  professor  of  etiquette !  "  she 
cried.  "  Before  you  try  to  teach  me  etiquette, 
nephew,  do  you  learn  to, be  polite  and  agreeable." 

Mr.  Lincoln,  talking  with  Mr.  Sanders  some 
209 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

distance  away,  noticed  by  the  actions  of  Bethune 
and  his  aunt  that  something  was  wrong.  "  What's 
the  matter  with  our  young  friends?"  he  asked. 
"  They  seem  to  be  quarrelling." 

"Well,  it's  a  family  fuss,  I  reckon,"  replied  Mr. 
Sanders.  "  Frank  was  never  fond  of  Leese,  nor 
she  of  him." 

"The  lady  seems  to  be  somewhat  flighty,"  re- 
marked the  President,  "but  I've  remarked  the 
symptoms  in  so  many  charming  women  that  I 
rarely  notice  it  now." 

Mr.  Sanders  pursed  his  lips  as  a  country 
lawyer  does  when  he  is  about  to  make  some  re- 
mark which  he  thinks  is  unusually  profound. 
"  Leese  is  about  as  good  as  the  common  run,  I 
reckon.  She's  not  nigh  as  flighty  as  she  looks  to 
be.  A  right  smart  of  it  is  put  on,  same  as  her 
clothes.  When  you  come  to  know  her,  she's  got 
lots  of  good  p'ints.  Wi'  all  her  gabble  she  never 
tells  all  she  knows.  I  don't  like  her  much,  but  I 
dunno  but  what  that's  my  fault." 

"  Likely  enough  it  is,"  said  the  President 
"I've  had  a  great  opportunity  to  find  out  what 
people  think  of  me ;  nine  out  of  ten  misjudge  or 
misunderstand  my  words,  my  actions,  and  my 
motives.  You  should  be  President  for  a  little 
while,  friend  Sanders,  just  for  the  fun  of  the 
thing." 

210 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

"  Me ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders ;  "  would  I  have 
to  have  a  Secretary  of  War  ? " 

"  Why,  certainly ;  that's  a  part  of  the  game." 

"  Well,  you'll  have  to  excuse  me.  I  don't  mind 
takin'  a  turn  at  checkers,  or  marbles,  or  mumble- 
peg,  but  that's  about  the  limit  of  my  appetite. 
No,  sir!  no  playin'  President  for  me  if  there's  a 
Secretary  of  War  in  the  game.  I  may  have  to 
tousle  your'n  before  I  leave  this  town ;  if  I  do,  an' 
it  don't  hurt  your  feelin's  too  much,  I  aim  to  make 
a  clean,  healthy  job  of  it." 

Mr.  Lincoln  laughed  and  excused  himself.  A 
great  many  people  had  passed  them  by,  going  to 
the  White  House,  some  on  business,  some  moved 
by  curiosity,  and  some  impelled  by  interest  and 
sympathy. 

"It  takes  a  heap  of  people  to  make  a  world, 
friend  Sanders,"  said  the  President,  as  he  turned 
away,  "and  I  must  go  and  examine  some  more  of 
the  specimens.  When  you  get  ready  to  come  in, 
Miss  Brandon  —  I  mean  Mrs.  Clopton  —  will  show 
you  how  to  avoid  the  crowd.  I  hope,"  he  said, 
pausing  again,  "that  you'll  take  dinner  with  us. 
Maybe  you'd  prefer  to  call  it  supper." 

"  About  what  time,  Mr.  President  ?  " 

"Early  candlelight,"  replied  Mr.  Lincoln,  with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  The  phrase  was  so  familiar 
that  the  Georgian  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course. 

211 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  Any  gal  company  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Sanders. 

"  No,  I  think  not.  Mrs.  Lincoln  will  have  some 
of  her  friends  to  dine  with  her,  and  we  can  have 
a  snug  little  dinner  of  our  own.  We'll  have  a 
member  of  Congress  who  was  in  Georgia  once 
upon  a  time,  and  Stanton  threatens  to  come, 
too." 

"  Well,  I  dunno  about  Frank  Bethune,  but  none 
of  'em  can  turn  my  stomach." 

"  Stanton  says  he  wants  to  discover  whether  you 
are  fish,  flesh,  or  fowl,"  remarked  the  President, 
smiling. 

"Jest  tell  him  I'm  a  plain  old  snappin'-turtle 
from  Georgia,  wi'  red  eyes  and  cold  feet."  Mr. 
Lincoln  turned  away  laughing,  and  Mr.  Sanders 
was  left  alone  until  little  Tad  came  along  driving 
his  goats.  He  fell  into  conversation  with  Mr. 
Sanders,  and  the  talk  was  so  interesting  to  both 
of  them  that  they  sat  flat  on  the  grass.  They 
went  from  one  subject  to  another  until  Mr.  San- 
ders, who  was  a  famous  hand  with  young  ones, 
landed  Tad  in  the  midst  of  that  wonderful  collec- 
tion of  animal  stories  with  which  Southern  chil- 
dren have  been  familiar  for  many  generations. 
The  old  Georgian  told  them  so  simply,  and  with 
such  apparent  confidence  in  their  reality,  that  the 
little  son  of  the  President  accepted  them  as  facts 
and  was,  for  the  time  being,  in  another  world  — 

212 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

the  world  that  had  been  created  by  the  negro 
romancers  who  lived  long  ago. 

Great  statesmen  passed  and  repassed  them  as 
they  sat  or  lay  reclining  on  the  grass ;  Generals 
of  the  army,  Congressmen,  civilians,  office-seekers, 
a  curious  and  motley  throng,  formed  part  of  the 
procession,  but,  so  far  as  Mr.  Sanders  and  Tad 
were  concerned,  they  were  all  phantoms,  invisible 
to  the  eye. 

Bethune  and  his  aunt  were  soon  on  good  terms 
again,  and  they  made  their  way  slowly  back 
to  the  White  House,  evidently  thinking  that  Mr. 
Sanders  had  gone  in.  Presently  a  servant  came 
out,  hunting  for  Tad. 

"We  have  been  searching  for  you  everywhere," 
the  man  said.  "Your  lunch  is  ready." 

"Lunch!"  cried  Tad.  He  had  been  brought 
out  of  fableland  so  suddenly  that  he  could  hardly 
realise  his  surroundings.  "  Won't  you  come  ? "  he 
said  to  Mr.  Sanders  with  appealing  eyes.  "  Please ! 
oh,  please  come !  " 

"  No ;  I  reckon  I  better  wait  for  you  out  here, 
or  in  the  pen  where  they  put  the  office-hunters," 
said  Mr.  Sanders. 

"  We  have  some  extra  fine  soup,  sir,"  remarked 
the  servant,  by  way  of  a  suggestion. 

When  Mr.  Sanders  had  been  made  perfectly 
sure  that  whatever  pleased  the  child  would  be 
213 


ON   THE   WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

pleasing  to  his  father  and  mother,  he  took  Tad's 
hand,  and  together  they  went  to  the  children's 
lunch-room.  It  is  doubtful  if  Tad  ever  had  another 
such  day.  The  fun  (for  him)  began  when  he  made 
a  somewhat  riotous  protest  against  a  bib. 

"  Don't  you  wear  'em  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Sanders 
in  tones  of  surprise.  "Well,  I  allers  do."  He 
turned  to  the  waiter.  "  I  wisht  you'd  pin  one 
around  my  neck.  I  don't  feel  right  wi'out  'em." 

Then,  with  the  napkin  on,  he  made  believe  to 
be  a  little  boy,  and  he  carried  out  the  pretence  so 
solemnly  that  Tad  fairly  screamed  with  laughter. 
In  fact,  the  youngster  reached  the  point  where 
he'd  laugh  almost  to  exhaustion  every  time  Mr.  San- 
ders looked  at  him.  Mrs.  Lincoln,  hearing  this 
unusual  sound,  left  her  guests  for  a  moment  and 
peeped  in  the  door.  For  an  instant  she  couldn't 
realise  the  situation.  Mr.  Sanders  was  saying, 
"  What's  your  name  ? "  and  Tad  was  telling  him. 
To  which  the  reply  was,  "Well,  I'm  named  little 
Billy,  an'  I  want  some  syrup  in  my  plate  so  I  can 
sop  it."  As  Tad  could  say  nothing  for  laughing, 
Mr.  Sanders  went  on :  — 

"  One  time  I  was  eatin'  a  chicken  gizzard  an'  I 
got  to  laughin',  an*  the  fust  thing  anybody  know'd 
the  gizzard  was  stuck  in  my  goozle.  My  mammy 
seed  I  was  chokin',  an'  she  hit  me  a  lick  on  the 
back  as  hard  as  a  mule  can  kick,  an'  the  gizzard 

214 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

flew  out  an'  knocked  the  cruet-stand  off'n  the 
table.  This  made  me  laugh,  an'  my  mammy  says, 
1  Sposin'  you'd  'a'  been  gnawin'  on  the  whole 
chicken,  where'd  you  be  now  ? '  an'  I  says, 
'Humph!  you  better  ax  where  the  chicken'd  be.'" 

This  was  too  much  for  Tad.  He  slid  out  of  his 
chair  and  fell  on  the  floor,  where  he  fairly  screamed 
with  laughter.  The  dignified  waiter  caught  the 
contagion  somehow.  He  turned  his  back  upon 
the  rest  and  leaned  half  bent  against  the  wall,  try* 
ing  to  hold  his  sides  with  one  arm.  Mrs.  Lincoln 
ran  back  to  relate  the  episode  to  her  guests,  and 
in  her  efforts  to  tell  of  the  scene  she  witnessed,  her 
laughter  became  uncontrollable,  and  pretty  soon 
she  and  her  guests  were  in  a  state  bordering  on 
the  hysterical — all  except  one,  an  elderly  lady,  the 
wife  of  a  Cabinet  Minister",  who  sat  looking  from 
one  to  the  other  with  eyebrows  lifted,  and  a  coun- 
tenance expressive  of  contempt. 

This  lady  seized  upon  this  unpropitious  moment 
to  take  her  departure,  and  the  gravity  of  her 
demeanour  as  she  bowed  herself  out  was  such  as 
to  give  new  cause  for  laughter.  The  finishing 
touch  was  given  when  Mrs.  Lincoln,  who  had  a 
keen  eye  for  the  ridiculous,  so  far  succeeded  in 
controlling  her  countenance  as  to  give  a  swift 
imitation  of  the  solemn  exit  of  the  lady  who  had 
retired. 

215 


ON   THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

This  last  incident,  as  free  from  malice  as  an 
innocent  caper  of  a  schoolgirl,  was  duly  reported 
to  the  Cabinet  Minister's  wife,  and  that  lady  made 
it  her  business  from  that  time  forth  to  spread 
abroad  hints  of  Mrs.  Lincoln's  "  flightiness,"  and 
out  of  these  hints,  so  industriously  planted,  grew 
the  thousand  and  one  fictions  that  were  scattered 
up  and  down  the  land  in  regard  to  the  mental 
condition  of  this  bright  lady  of  the  White 
House. 

That  evening  at  dinner,  after  Bethune  and  Mr. 
Sanders  had  been  introduced  to  Mr.  Stanton  and 
to  Congressman  Hudspeth,  Mr.  Lincoln  referred  to 
Tad's  enjoyable  luncheon,  an  enthusiastic  account 
of  which  the  lad  had  already  given  his  father. 
Mr.  Sanders  made  some  humorous  remarks  on 
the  subject  of  amusing  children.  For  a  time  the 
talk  was  wholly  between  these  two.  Mr.  Stanton 
seemed  to  be  absorbed,  though  he  watched  the 
two  Southerners  very  closely,  while  Hudspeth's 
thoughts  appeared  to  be  far  afield.  Finally,  Mr. 
Sanders  turned  to  Mr.  Hudspeth  and  asked  him 
if  he  had  ever  been  in  Georgia. 

"  Yes ;  I  had  some  peculiar  as  well  as  some  very 
pleasant  experiences  there." 

"  I  allowed  I'd  met  you  there ;  you  lived  wi' 
Addison  Abercrombie,"  remarked  Mr.  Sanders. 
"  You  needn't  be  ashamed  of  it,"  he  went  on,  "  for 
216 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

Mr.  Seward  was  a  school-teacher  down  in  that 
neighbourhood  years  ago." 

"  Well,  I  wonder !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Lincoln. 
"Stanton,  the  Governor  has  never  told  us  about 
that.  Well,  well !  " 

"  I  mind  him  well,"  Mr.  Sanders  continued. 
"  He  was  thin  as  a  rail,  wi'  a  big  nose,  an'  his 
Adam's  apple  stuck  out  like  a  potleg.  He  had 
red  hair  an'  a  freckled  face." 

Mr.  Hudspeth  asked  about  little  Crotchet,  who 
was  dead,  and  about  Aaron,  the  Arab,  in  regard  to 
whom  Mr.  Sanders  volunteered  the  information 
that  he  now  owned  the  Abercrombie  place. 

"  What  nonsense ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Stanton, 
almost  angrily. 

"  I  mean,  sir,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders  with  a 
deprecatory  gesture,  "  that  Aaron  is  by  the  Aber- 
crombie place  like  some  folks  I've  seen  are  about 
the  Government.  He  thinks  he  owns  it,  an'  he 
don't ;  they  think  they're  runnin'  the  Government, 
an'  they  ain't." 

Mr.  Stanton  swelled  up  like  a  gobbler,  as  Mr.  San- 
ders described  it  afterward,  but  Mr.  Lincoln  came 
to  the  rescue.  Laughing  heartily,  he  cried :  — 

"  A  fair  hit,  friend  Sanders  !  You've  touched 
my  weak  point.  I  reckon  I  do  put  on  too  many 
airs." 

Mr.  Sanders  had  a  remark  ready,  but  he  felt 
217 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

his  foot  pressed  and  he  held  his  peace.     At  that 
moment  Mr.  Stanton  addressed  him. 

"  Who  gave  you  a  commission  to  come  here  ? " 

"  A  fellow  named  Doyle."  It  was  Bethune  who 
answered,  and  not  Mr.  Sanders.  "  Doyle  gave  me 
a  pass  from  Mr.  Lincoln.  I  regarded  it  as  an  invi- 
tation." 

"  And  so  it  was,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"Who  invited  you  ?"  inquired  the  Secretary, 
turning  his  spectacles  on  Mr.  Sanders. 

"  Well,  I'm  like  the  stranger  at  the  infair.  The 
folks  saw  him  hangin*  'roun'  the  door,  an'  some 
on  'em  axed  him  what  he  was  doin'  there,  an'  he 
said,  says  he,  '  I  heard  the  fiddlin'  an'  the  shufflin', 
an'  smelt  the  dram,  an'  I  jest  thought  I'd  look  on 
an'  see  well  done  done  well.' " 

"  Well,  you  may  say  that  you  had  an  invitation, 
too,"  remarked  Mr.  Lincoln.  "  I  wouldn't  have 
missed  knowing  you  for  a  good  deal." 

"  I  can  vouch  for  that,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  ironi- 
cally. 

"  If  you  can,  Mr.  Secretary,  so  much  the  better," 
Mr.  Lincoln  declared,  with  some  emphasis.  "  But 
these  gentlemen  are  my  guests.  If  they  are  to  be 
catechised  and  cross-examined,  I'm  the  one  to  do 
it." 

"  But  will  you  ?  "  inquired  the  Secretary,  eagerly. 

"  No,  I  won't,"  replied  the  President. 
218 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

"  Why,  Mr.  President,"  cried  Mr.  Sanders,  "  he 
don't  pester  us  one  grain." 

"  Mr.  President,  I  have  just  one  more  question 
to  ask,"  said  the  Secretary. 

"  Fire  away !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders. 

"  Did  the  man  Doyle  give  you  a  despatch  to  be 
delivered  at  the  War  Department  ? " 

"  He  did,"  replied  Bethune.  "  I  suspected  that 
it  was  a  trap  laid  for  us,  opened  it,  and  had  it 
deciphered.  I  kept  a  copy  of  the  translation,  and 
will  now  take  occasion  to  present  it  to  the  Presi- 
dent, so  that  he  may  see  how  the  lives  of  human 
beings  are  trafficked  in  by  those  who  desire  to  win 
Mr.  Stanton's  favour.  We  fell  into  the  hands  o'  a 
man  named  Awtry,  but  we  insisted  that  he  should 
bring  us  to  the  President." 

He  handed  the  copy  of  the  despatch  to  Mr.  Lin- 
coln, who  read  it,  rubbing  his  chin  thoughtfully. 
Then  he  turned  to  Bethune,  and  regarded  him 
with  a  half-humorous,  half-melancholy,  but  wholly 
attractive  smile. 

"May  I  see  this  extraordinary  despatch,  Mr. 
President  ?  "  asked  the  Secretary,  holding  out  his 
hand  for  it. 

"  You  have  no  objections?"  the  President  nodded 
to  Bethune. 

"  None  in  the  world,  Mr.   President,"  was  the 
calm  and  confident  reply. 
219 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

*'  Well,  anyhow,  I  reckon  I'd  better  put  it  in  my 
pocket,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  in  his  slow,  deliberate 
way.  "It  might  worry  you,  Stanton,  and  it's  a 
matter  too  trifling  for  you  to  be  worried  about. 
No,  I'll  take  charge  of  it  myself." 

With  that  he  folded  the  copy  carefully  and 
placed  it  in  an  old  morocco  pocketbook.  He  was 
absorbed  in  thought  a  moment  or  two,  drumming 
on  the  table  with  his  fingers.  Then  he  lifted  his 
head  and  laughed,  remarking,  "  It  reminds  me  of 
a  story  I  heard  —  " 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  President !  Good  night,  Hud- 
speth !  "  exclaimed  the  Secretary,  sharply,  as  he 
arose  from  the  table.  "You  two,"  he  said,  indi- 
cating Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders,  "  will  hear  from 
me  again." 

"  My  post-office  is  Salem,  Injianny,"  remarked 
Mr.  Sanders,  in  his  matter-of-fact  way. 

This  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Lincoln,  who  laughed 
uproariously  as  Stanton  stalked  out.  But  he  sud- 
denly grew  grave  again.  "I'm  always  forgetting 
my  dignity,"  he  declared.  "  Stanton  is  angry,  and 
he  has  a  right  to  be.  But  if  he  had  seen  this 
affair  "  —  tapping  his  pocket  —  "  he'd  have  half  a 
regiment  on  guard  here,  and  he'd  keep  it  up  until 
I  went  out  and  dismissed  'em,  as  a  country  show- 
man dismisses  his  audience." 

Congressman  Hudspeth  had  a  good  many  ques- 
220 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

tions  to  ask  about  old  acquaintances,  and  he  and 
Mr.  Sanders  were  soon  engaged  in  a  friendly  dis- 
cussion over  the  rights  and  the  wrongs  of  the  war. 
It  was  a  discussion  altogether  useless,  a  fact  to 
which  the  President  called  attention,  with  the  re- 
sult of  putting  an  end  to  it.  Shortly  afterward 
Mr.  Hudspeth,  he  being  a  prominent  member  of 
the  military  committee,  excused  himself  and  retired, 
and  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders  soon  followed  his 
example. 

"  I'd  ask  you  to  sit  up  with  me  awhile,"  said  the 
President,  "  but  I'll  have  a  busy  night  of  it.  Come 
to-morrow  night  about  ten.  We  must  talk  about 
your  trip  South.  Miss  Brandon,  as  she  calls  her- 
self, is  very  particular,  and  we  must  try  and  meet 
her  views." 

"  You  leave  her  to  me,  Mr.  President,"  remarked 
Mr.  Sanders,  suggestively. 

"  Gladly,  gladly,  my  friend ! "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Lincoln,  so  heartily  that  Mr.  Sanders  was  com- 
pelled to  laugh,  and  even  Bethune  smiled. 

Curiously  enough,  neither  of  the  Southerners,  as 
they  returned  to  their  apartments,  spoke  of  the 
scheme  which  had  originally  brought  them  to 
Washington.  Each  was  anxious  that  the  other 
should  make  a  suggestion  to  abandon  it  altogether, 
while  each,  for  reasons  that  will  be  clear  to  every 
masculine  mind,  hesitated  about  making  such  a 

221 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

suggestion.  Thus  it  was  that  neither  mentioned 
the  plan  in  any  shape  or  form  that  night  or  the 
next  day.  It  was  a  queer  situation,  and  it  was 
altogether  characteristic  that  Bethune  should 
worry  over  its  embarrassments  while  Mr.  San- 
ders was  inwardly  chuckling  over  its  humorous 
features. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  about  to  leave  the 
hotel  at  the  hour  agreed  upon  that  a  word  was 
said  on  the  subject. 

"  I  reckon  you're  feelin'  a  little  nervous,  Frank," 
suggested  Mr.  Sanders. 

"  Not  more  than  you,  I  venture,"  replied  Bethune, 
calmly. 

As  Mr.  Sanders  had  expected  a  somewhat  differ- 
ent reply,  he  merely  pursed  his  lips  as  though  he 
were  going  to  whistle,  and  said  no  more. 

The  carriage  was  at  the  door,  and  Bethune  and 
Mr.  Sanders  were  driven  swiftly  to  the  White 
House.  The  two  Southerners  found  Mr.  Lincoln 
in  high  good  humour.  He  welcomed  them  in 
the  heartiest  manner,  slapping  Mr.  Sanders  on  the 
back  and  displaying  in  the  most  unaffected  manner 
his  delight  at  seeing  his  "two  friends  from  Georgia," 
as  he  called  them. 

'*  You  must  have  heard  good  news,  Mr.  Presi- 
dent," suggested  Bethune. 

"  Well,  if  I  had,  I  wouldn't  tell  you  fellows ;  it 

222 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

would  be  bad  news  to  you.  But,  as  an  old  friend 
of  mine  used  to  say,  '  No  news  is  good  news,'  and 
when  there's  no  fuss  in  the  family,  and  no  quarrel 
about  a  fence  line,  and  the  cow  is  giving  down  her 
milk,  and  the  hens  are  laying,  the  man  who  for- 
gets to  be  happy  will  miss  a  mighty  good  chance." 

"That's  so,"  assented  Mr.  Sanders. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  turning  to 
Bethune,  "  what  put  it  into  that  man's  head  to 
charge  you  fellows  with  plotting  to  kidnap  the 
President  ? " 

"  Doyle,  you  mean  ?  Well,  Mr.  President,  he 
could  as  easily  have  charged  us  with  plotting  to 
assassinate  the  President.  I  wonder  he  didn't, 
since  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  choose  the  word," 
replied  Bethune. 

"Well,  when  you  two  get  back,  what  will  you 
do  to  this  man  ? "  asked  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"  Why,  we  are  in  hopes  his  case  will  be  attended 
to  before  we  lay  eyes  on  him  again,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  Is  that  so  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Lincoln,  sitting 
bolt  upright.  Then  he  laughed  lightly,  and  leaned 
back  again,  throwing  one  of  his  long  legs  over  the 
arm  of  his  chair.  "  Well,  don't  be  too  hard  on 
him." 

The  President,  leaning  back  with  his  hands 
behind  his  head,  gazed  at  the  ceiling  in  silence 

223 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

for  some  time,  apparently  in  a  profound  study 
Then  he  laughed  aloud  at  some  amusing  thought, 
and  once  more  sat  upright  in  his  chair. 

"  Now,  about  this  kidnapping  business,"  he  re- 
marked. "Do  you  think  it  would  be  an  easy 
matter  to  kidnap  the  President  ?  " 

Mr.  Sanders  gave  a  gasp  of  surprise  as  he 
turned  in  his  seat 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  Bethune,  leaning  forward 
and  speaking  in  grave,  measured  accents,  "  Mr. 
President,  it  would  be  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world." 

"  What  time  is  it  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"About  half  after  ten,"  replied  Mr.  Sanders, 
consulting  his  silver  watch,  which  was  as  big  as  a 
biscuit,  and  weighed  about  half  a  pound. 

"Well,  Stanton  is  to  be  here  about  half -past 
eleven,  and  he  usually  comes  ahead  of  time.  Now, 
what  I  want  you  to  do,"  Mr.  Lincoln  went  on  with 
some  eagerness,  "is  to  show  me  how  that  kidnap- 
ping business  could  be  carried  out.  Let's  suppose 
a  case,  what  we  lawyers  call  a  hypothetical  case. 
Let's  take  it  for  granted  that,  in  the  performance 
of  your  duty,  as  you  look  at  it,  you  had  concluded 
that  the  easiest  way  to  achieve  what  you  call  your 
independence,  is  to  seize  the  President  and  carry 
him  South.  Then  let  us  suppose  that  matters  had 
fallen  out  pretty  much  as  they  have.  Here  you 

224 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

are,  two  quick-witted  Confederates ;  now  show  me 
how  the  kidnapping  could  be  carried  out." 

"  But,  Mr.  President,"  exclaimed  Bethune,  "  that 
is  precisely  —  " 

Mr.  Lincoln  stopped  him.  "  I  know — I  know ! " 
he  cried,  and  his  voice  overbore  that  of  Bethune. 
Know !  what  did  he  know  ?  "  I  know  how  you 
feel  about  it;  but  this  is  purely  a  hypothetical 
case.  I  am  supposed  to  be  taken  unawares." 

Both  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders  had  arisen  from 
their  chairs,  partly  to  conceal  their  excitement  and 
partly  to  seize  what  seemed  to  be  a  providential 
opportunity.  The  event  had,  as  it  were,  been  taken 
out  of  their  hands.  They  seemed  to  have  no 
choice  in  the  matter. 

"Well,  Mr.  President,  supposing  that  we  had 
come  here  on  such  a  mission,"  said  Bethune,  "it 
would  probably  be  carried  out  in  this  way,  making 
due  allowances  for  emergencies."  He  went  to  the 
inner  door  and  looked  in.  Then  he  went  to  the 
outer  door  and  looked  out  into  the  wide  entrance. 
The  moment  was  propitious.  He  returned,  stood 
by  the  President's  chair,  and  then  touched  him 
sharply  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Mr.  Lincoln,  great  emergencies  sometimes  call 

for  cruel  remedies."     Bethune's  voice  was  grim  in 

its  earnestness.     "  We  are  two  Confederates.    You 

are  our  prisoner.     Make  no  outcry.     Not  a  hair  of 

225 


ON   THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

your  head  shall  be  harmed  if  you  obey  instructions. 
The  situation  is  desperate  for  us,  but  it  is  more 
desperate  for  you." 

The  President  looked  into  Bethune's  eyes  and 
seemed  to  understand  the  situation.  "  Well,  you'd 
certainly  make  a  fine  actor,"  he  remarked. 

"  Come,  Mr.  President ;  we  have  not  a  moment 
to  lose,"  said  Bethune. 

"  Let  me  get  my  hat,"  suggested  the  Presi- 
dent. Having  secured  this,  he  said,  "  Some 
sort  of  weapon  is  necessary  where  force  is 
talked  of." 

"  What  is  this  ? "  asked  Bethune,  holding  up  a 
pistol. 

"  And  this  ? "  said  Mr.  Sanders,  holding  up  its 
mate. 

"  The  argument  is  concluded  and  the  witness  is 
Vvith  you,"  remarked  Mr.  Lincoln  with  a  chuckle. 
Then  he  added  :  "  But  kidnapping  can't  be  carried 
on  on  foot.  I'm  a  pretty  good  walker,  but  if  I 
was  to  take  the  studs  and  lie  down  in  the  road, 
you'd  have  some  trouble." 

"  The  carriage  waits,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  replied 
Bethune,  grimly.  "  Remember,  you  are  supposed 
to  be  going  of  your  own  accord." 

"  By  jing !  "  exclaimed  the  President ;  "  I  reckon 
this  is  what  the  play-actors  call  a  full-dress 
rehearsal" 

226 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

He  went  forward  very  cheerfully,  however. 
When  they  came  to  the  carriage  the  President 
entered  first,  Bethune  following.  Mr.  Sanders 
mounted  to  the  driver's  seat. 

"  Where  are  you,  Sanders  ? "  inquired  Mr. 
Lincoln. 

"I'm  goin*  to  take  the  air,"  Mr.  Sanders  re- 
plied. 

"  Well,  here,  swap  hats  with  me.  I  can't  wear 
mine  in  here  unless  we  cut  a  hole  in  the  roof." 

Mr.  Lincoln  leaned  from  the  window  and  passed 
his  tall  hat  up  to  Mr.  Sanders,  and  received  in 
return  the  soft  felt  hat  that  Mr.  Sanders  wore. 

The  carriage  turned  into  the  street  and  went 
whistling  away  in  the  direction  arranged  by  John 
Omahundro. 

"  Which  way  are  we  going  ? "  the  President 
asked. 

"I  couldn't  say,  Mr.  President;  I'm  not  familiar 
with  this  part  of  the  country." 

Mr.  Lincoln  said  nothing  more  for  some  little 
time.  Then,  "  Don't  you  think  this  affair  is 
getting  to  be  a  little  too  natural  ? "  he  sug- 
gested. 

"  I  had  some  such  idea,  Mr.  President,"  replied 
Bethune. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  that  if 
Stanton  should  come  to  the  White  House,  and 
227 


ON   THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

find  me  gone,  and  begin  to  inquire  about  —  I  was 
just  thinking  what  would  happen  to  that  kins- 
woman  of  yours." 

"Well,  he  would  have  to  reckon  with  Mrs. 
Lincoln,"  replied  Bethune. 

"That's  so,"  assented  the  President  with  a 
chuckle.  "Stanton  is  not  much  of  a  favourite 
with  any  of  the  family  except  me.  But  if  Mrs. 
Lincoln  should  take  alarm,  then  there  would  be 
trouble  for  the  Southern  lady." 

This  was  a  new  phase  of  the  affair.  But 
Bethune  felt  that  Providence  or  Fate  had  tied  his 
hands.  He  could  do  nothing.  They  went  for- 
ward rapidly  for  two  or  three  miles.  Then  they 
heard  a  protesting  voice  :  — 

"  Hold  on  there,  will  you !  Hain't  you  got  no 
eyes  in  your  blamed  noggin  ?  I  lay  if  I  take  a 
rock  an'  knock  you  off'n  that  barouche  you'll  think 
you  saw  somethin'." 

There  was  a  light  wagon  in  the  road  to  which 
a  couple  of  horses  were  hitched.  The  driver  of 
Bethune's  carriage  stopped  his  team,  handed  the 
reins  to  Mr.  Sanders,  and  joined  the  complaining 
person,  who  was  no  other  than  John  Omahundro, 
in  the  road. 

"  Wait !  "  said  the  latter  in  a  low  tone.  He  put 
his  hand  to  his  ear  and  listened.  "  I  hear  a  cavalry 
squad  coming.  Jump  in  the  carriage,  turn  around 

228 


THE   KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

—  there's  plenty  of  room  here  —  and  drive  back  the 
way  you  came." 

"  Any  danger  for  me  ? "  asked  driver. 

"  Not  a  bit  in  the  world,"  responded  Omahundro. 
"  Get  a  move  on  you ;  you  want  the  cavalry  to  meet 
you  with  your  horses'  heads  turned  toward  town." 

No  time  was  lost  in  making  this  movement. 
The  driver  put  the  lash  to  the  horses  as  they  were 
making  the  turn,  and  when  they  met  the  squad  of 
pursuing  cavalry  the  carriage  was  moving  toward 
the  city  at  a  brisk  trot. 

"  Halt !  "  cried  a  commanding  voice. 

"Well,  if  you  know'd  who  you  was  haltin', 
maybe  you  wouldn't  be  so  uppity,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Sanders. 

The  Captain,  making  out  the  outline  of  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's hat,  which  the  genial  Georgian  was  wearing, 
cried  out,  "  Is  that  you,  Mr.  President  ?  " 

For  answer,  Mr.  Lincoln  leaned  his  head  from 
the  window  and  said,  "Yes,  it's  me;  what's  the 
trouble  ?  Any  bad  news  from  the  front  ?  Speak 
out,  my  man.  I'm  used  to  trouble.  You  seem  to 
be  excited ;  what  is  it  ? " 

"  Why,  Mr.  President,  Mr.  Stanton  is  at  the 
White  House  in  a  great  state  of  alarm.  He  thinks 
you  have  been  seized  and  carried  off.  He  gave 
me  orders  to  take  ten  men,  pursue  the  carriage, 
and  overtake  it  at  all  hazards." 
229 


ON   THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

"  What  then  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"  He  took  me  aside,  Mr.  President,"  explained 
the  Captain,  "  and  said,  '  When  you  catch  those 
villains,  let  your  patriotism  dictate  your  course.'  " 

"Well,  what  does  your  patriotism  dictate?" 
asked  Mr.  Lincoln,  dryly. 

"  I  am  under  your  orders,  Mr.  President.  If 
you  have  none  to  give,  I  will  have  the  honour  of 
escorting  you  to  the  White  House." 

"  It  is  unnecessary,"  replied  Mr.  Lincoln.  "  Ride 
on  ahead,  and  when  you  arrive  at  the  White 
House,  tell  Secretary  Stanton  to  disband  his 
forces,  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons,  take  down  the 
barricades,  and  permit  my  friends  and  myself  to 
enter  on  the  terms  that  have  always  existed." 

The  officer  saluted  in  the  dark  and  was  about 
to  give  the  necessary  orders,  when  Mr.  Lincoln 
again  spoke.  "  What  time  is  it  ?  " 

The  officer  struck  a  match  and  looked  at  his 
watch. 

"  Ten-fifty,  Mr.  President." 

"  Thank  you.  The  Secretary  was  a  notch  or 
two  ahead  of  time,"  Mr.  Lincoln  remarked. 

"Yes,  Mr.  President.  A  man  named  Doyle 
arrived  from  the  South  to-night,  and  informed 
the  Secretary  that  two  rebels — " 

"  You  mean  Confederates,  I  reckon,  Captain," 
suggested  Mr.  Lincoln. 

230 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

"Yes,  Mr.  President,  two  Confederates  had 
come  to  Washington  for  the  purpose  of  kidnapping 
you.  When  he  described  the  men,  the  Secretary 
made  haste  to  the  White  House,  summoning  me 
as  he  went.  When  he  arrived  there  and  found 
you  had  gone  off  with  the  very  men  accused  by 
Doyle,  you  may  imagine  his  excitement." 

"  Yes ;  I'm  mighty  glad  I  wasn't  there.  Well, 
Captain,  you  have  acted  with  commendable  energy, 
and  I  am  under  obligations  to  you.  Call  on  me 
some  day  at  the  White  House.  I  want  to  have  a 
talk  with  you." 

"Thank  you,  Mr!  President;  I  have  simply 
done  my  duty."  He  wheeled  his  horse,  gave  a 
curt  order  to  his  detachment,  and  the  small  caval- 
cade was  soon  clattering  toward  the  White  House, 
where,  in  no  long  time,  the  Captain  reported  to 
the  Secretary,  who  was  still  in  a  fury  of  rage  and 
excitement. 

"Did  you  seize  the  two  spies?  Where  are 
they?"  he  thundered. 

"Under  the  circumstances,  Mr.  Secretary,  I 
could  but  obey  the  commands  of  the  President." 

"  Remain  here  with  your  men,"  Mr.  Stanton 
said.  Then,  his  fury  getting  the  better  of  him,  he 
paced  up  and  down  the  floor  crying,  "  Oh,  he  will 
ruin  the  country !  " 

"  Don't  you  think  you  had  better  restrain  your- 
231 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

self,  Mr.  Secretary  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Lincoln,  who, 
coming  out  of  the  state  of  alarm  and  apprehension 
into  which  she  had  been  thrown  by  the  wild  and 
stormy  excitement  of  Mr.  Stanton,  was  now  some- 
what angry. 

"Nothing  but  Providence  has  saved  your  hus- 
band from  those  two  spies  and  traitors  —  that  is, 
if  he  is  saved.  They  had  everything  planned  to 
carry  him  off  to-night." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Lincoln. 

"  But  every  word  is  true,  madam,"  declared 
Doyle,  who  was  sticking  as  close  to  the  Secretary 
as  he  dared.  "  They  planned  it  in  my  presence  in 
Richmond." 

"I  don't  know  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Lincoln. 
"  What  were  you  doing  in  Richmond  ? " 

"Serving  my  country  to  the  best  of  my  poor 
ability,  madam." 

"  As  a  spy  ? "  There  was  so  much  scorn  in  the 
lady's  voice  that  Doyle  assumed  a  more  chastened 
attitude. 

After  a  while  the  carriage  drove  up,  and  the 
President,  Bethune,  and  Mr.  Sanders  alighted. 
Mr.  Lincoln  was  in  high  glee.  As  the  carriage 
stopped,  he  was  saying  to  Bethune,  "  You  remem- 
ber when  I  asked  you  if  the  affair  wasn't  getting 
to  be  too  natural,  too  real  ? " 
232 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

Bethune  assented,  but  the  President  waited  until 
they  were  near  the  portico  of  the  White  House, 
then  he  continued  :  — 

"  Well,  I  remember  it,  too.  It  reminds  me  of 
the  fellow  who  set  out  to  play  ghost  in  his  village. 
He  had  tolerable  success,  until  he  happened  to 
run  across  a  crabbed  old  fellow  who  had  a  good 
deal  of  money  out  at  interest.  The  ghost  says  : 
'Squire  Brown,  you've  got  too  much  money. 
What'll  you  do  with  it  when  you  die  ? '  Squire 
Brown  gripped  his  hickory,  and  says,  'You  talk 
lots  too  natural  for  a  ghost,'  and  with  that  he  lit  in 
and  f railed  the  fellow  out." 

Bethune  had  no  time  to  digest  the  moral  which 
might  or  might  not  be  attached  to  this  brief  narra- 
tive of  a  village  incident.  As  the  three  walked 
into  the  light,  Secretary  Stanton  cried  out  with  a 
voice  full  of  passion  :  — 

"  Mr.  President,  I  hope  you  are  convinced  that 
I  was  correct  in  what  I  said  about  those  detestable 
spies.  Captain  Bird,  do  your  duty ! " 

But  before  the  Captain  could  make  a  movement, 
Mrs.  Lincoln  burst  into  a  fit  of  uncontrollable 
laughter,  in  which  she  was  joined  by  all  except 
Mr.  Stanton.  Even  the  officer  failed  to  maintain 
his  dignity.  Mr.  Lincoln,  tall  and  lank,  was  wear- 
ing Mr.  Sanders's  felt  hat,  which,  slouched  as  it 
was,  gave  him  the  aspect  of  a  pirate.  On  the 
233 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

other  hand,  Mr.  Sanders  was  wearing  Mr.  Lin. 
coin's  tall  beaver.  It  was  tipped  to  one  side  a 
trifle,  and  this,  together  with  the  fact  that  he  wore 
a  bobtail  jeans  coat,  added  the  last  touch  of  the 
comic  to  his  rotund  figure.  Mr.  Lincoln  joined 
in  and  led  the  laughter,  and  for  several  long 
minutes  the  hilarity  ran  high,  while  Mr.  Stanton 
gazed  with  undisguised  scorn  and  contempt  upon 
the  scene. 

Presently,  taking  advantage  of  a  lull  in  the 
laughter,  he  cried  in  harsh,  commanding  tones  :  — 

"  Captain  Bird,  arrest  those  men  !  " 

'•  Why,  what  have  we  done,  Stanton  ? "  demanded 
Mr.  Lincoln.  "  What  are  we  guilty  of  ? " 

The  Secretary,  with  an  angry  gesture,  turned  to 
Doyle. 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  Doyle,  "  these  men  came 
here  to  seize  you  and  carry  you  off.  I  am  willing  to 
make  oath  to  that  fact.  But  for  the  energy  of 
Secretary  Stanton  to-night,  their  plot  would  have 
succeeded." 

"  What  is  your  opinion,  Captain  Bird  ?  What 
did  you  find  when  you  came  up  with  your  detach- 
ment ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"  Mr.  President,  we  met  the  carriage  on  its  way 
to  the  White  House,  and  in  accordance  with  your 
orders,  hurried  here  in  advance  of  it." 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  President,  turning  to 
234 


THE   KIDNAPPING   OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

Doyle,  "  if  there  was  any  plot  to  kidnap  to-night, 
I'm  the  guilty  party." 

"That's  so,  Mr.  President,"  Mr.  Sanders 
solemnly  asserted.  "You  not  only  took  us  off, 
but  you  took  my  hat.  It  looked  to  me  like  mighty 
squally  times  out  there  in  the  dark  road,  but,  any- 
how, I  thank  you  kindly  for  fetching  us  back." 

"  Oh,  you  are  more  than  welcome,  friend  San- 
ders. There's  another  thing  I  want  to  say  to  you 
gentlemen,"  remarked  Mr.  Lincoln,  straightening 
himself  up ;  "  the  less  you  say  of  this  affair  the 
better.  If  it  slips  into  the  newspapers,  I  propose 
to  see  that  the  public  get  the  straight  of  it.  One 
thing  more  :  these  gentlemen  here  —  Mr.  Bethune 
and  Mr.  Sanders  —  are  in  Washington  by  my  invi- 
tation ;  they  are  my  guests ;  I  am  responsible  for 
their  conduct  here,  and  whoever  interferes  with 
them  will  be  held  responsible  by  me.  Captain  Bird, 
I  thank  you  again  for  the  energetic  way  in  which 
you  carried  out  your  orders.  If  the  Secretary  of 
War  has  no  more  for  you  to-night,  neither  have  I." 

Mr.  Stanton  had  retired  in  disgust  to  the  inner 
office,  where  the  Captain  sought  him,  returning  in 
a  moment  to  bid  the  President  good  night  and  to 
lead  his  squad  of  cavalry  to  their  quarters. 

Mr.  Doyle  stood  where  the  Secretary  had  left 
him,   and   his   embarrassment  was   so  plain  that 
Bethune,  following  one  of  his  impulses,  said :  — 
235 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"Mr.  President,  I  think  I  can  set  Mr.  Doyle 
right,  but  before  I  do  so  I'd  like  to  ask  what 
grudge  he  bears  me." 

"Grudge!  I  have  no  grudge  against  you," 
Doyle  asserted. 

"  Why  did  you  try  to  use  my  own  hand  to 
entrap  me  ?  Why  did  you  intrust  me  with  a 
despatch  in  which  you  committed  me  to  the 
gallows,  not  for  the  good  of  the  country,  but 
for  the  advancement  of  yourself  and  your  friend 
Awtry  ? " 

"  Why,  I  gave  you  no  such  despatch  as  that," 
Doyle  asserted. 

"  Well,  the  President  has  a  copy  of  it,"  remarked 
Bethune,  dryly.  Mr.  Lincoln  looked  at  Doyle  with 
a  puzzled  expression  on  his  face.  He  seemed  to 
be  studying  the  man.  It  was  a  very  embarrassing 
stare. 

"  What  put  the  notion  in  your  head,"  said  the 
President,  turning  to  Bethune  with  something  like 
a  sigh,  "  that  the  gentleman  needed  to  be  set  right 
with  me?" 

"It  struck  me,  Mr.  President,  that  you  might 
misunderstand  him,  considering  all  the  circum- 
stances," replied  Bethune. 

"No;  I  think  I  understand  him  perfectly."  But 
he  still  continued  to  regard  Mr.  Doyle  with  a  puz- 
zled, melancholy  expression  on  his  face. 

236 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

"But  if  you  will  permit  me  to  explain,  Mr. 
President,"  Bethune  persisted. 

But  Mr.  Lincoln  shook  his  head  and  raised  his 
long  arm  in  a  protesting  gesture.  "  No,  not  now ; 
I'll  have  a  talk  with  this  gentleman  at  another 
time.  He  must  excuse  me  now.  Bethune,  you 
and  Mr.  Sanders  come  into  my  private  office." 

He  bowed  to  Doyle  and  went  out.  As  Bethune 
was  following,  Doyle  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
detained  him.  "  What  did  you  intend  to  say  to 
him  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  I  intended,  and  still  intend  to  tell  him 
the  simple  truth,"  replied  Bethune. 

"That  you  came  to  kidnap  him?"  gasped 
Doyle. 

"  Why,  certainly.  I  don't  want  him  to  believe 
that  you  are  engaged  in  ensnaring  men  merely  to 
advance  your  own  fortunes." 

"  Do  you  think  I'd  do  the  like  for  you  ?  "  inquired 
Doyle. 

"Why,  I  never  asked  myself  the  question,"  re- 
plied Bethune,  regarding  the  man  with  a  smile. 
"  I  owe  you  no  good  will,  but  I  owe  it  to  myself  to 
be  honest  and  straightforward.  Now,  answer  me 
this :  why  did  you  have  men  ready  to  follow  me 
out  of  Richmond  ? " 

Doyle  hesitated,  but  finally  spoke  out :  "  I  wanted 
to  make  sure  that  you  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 

237 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

right  parties  when  you  reached  Washington.  If  L 
had  it  to  do  over  again,  it  wouldn't  be  done.  And 
I  want  to  say  to  you  that  I'm  glad  I  met  you." 

"Well,  we  have  no  time  for  compliments.  Good 
night" 

Mr.  Sanders  was  waiting  for  Bethune,  and  to- 
gether they  went  into  Mr.  Lincoln's  private  office. 
The  President  and  Mr.  Stanton  were  in  the  larger 
room,  and  the  tones  of  their  voices,  coming  through 
the  door,  showed  that  they  were  conversing  as  if 
nothing  unusual  had  occurred.  Indeed,  it  seemed 
that  Mr.  Stanton  had  been,  for  the  moment,  entirely 
subdued. 

Presently  Mr.  Lincoln  came  to  the  door.  "  San- 
ders, you  and  Bethune  come  in  here.  I  want  you 
to  see  that  my  Secretary  of  War  is  not  always 
ready  to  eat  folks  up." 

Mr.  Stanton  greeted  them  in  a  friendly  manner. 
He  had  his  glasses  off  for  the  moment,  and  for  the 
first  time  the  two  Southerners  saw  that  in  repose 
his  features  were  cast  in  a  genial  mould,  and  that 
his  eyes  could  command  a  kindly  expression. 

"Bethune,"  said  the  President,  "what  was  that 
explanation  you  wanted  to  make  about  Doyle  ? 
Mr.  Stanton  seems  to  appreciate  his  abilities.  I 
don't  know  how  able  he  is,  but  that  last  part  of  his 
despatch  doesn't  sound  nice  to  me.  Mr.  Stanton 
agrees  with  me  about  this,  but  he  says  the  first 

238 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

part  is  correct."  The  copy  of  the  despatch  lay 
open  on  the  table  between  the  President  and  the 
Secretary. 

"Mr.  President,  after  what  has  happened  to-night, 
taking  everything  as  it  occurred,  I  feel  sure  that 
you'll  not  misunderstand  my  motives  when  I  say 
to  you  that  the  first  part  of  Mr.  Doyle's  despatch 
is  correct."  Bethune's  tone  was  quiet,  but  firm. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  remarked  Mr.  Stanton,  with 
emphasis. 

"  Well,  then,  why  didn't  you  carry  out  your  plan 
to-night  ? " 

"  They  had  a  very  good  reason,"  exclaimed  the 
Secretary  of  War. 

"Mr.  President,"  said  Mr.  Sanders,  suddenly 
and  emphatically,  "there  ain't  enough  cavalry  in 
fifty  mile  of  this  town  to  'a'  kept  us  from  carryin' 
you  off  to-night.  You  know  where  we  turned 
around  ?  Well,  right  there  was  a  light  wagon,  an' 
all  we  had  to  do  was  to  hustle  you  in  it.  The 
man  a-drivin'  it  knows  ev'ry  foot  of  ground  betwixt 
here  an'  Richmond." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln ;  "  but  why  didn't 
you  take  advantage  of  all  this  ? " 

"  Mr.  President,  I  would  as  soon  kidnap  my 
grandfather,  or  some  one  else  equally  dear  to  me," 
Bethune  declared.  "But  it  was  a  great  tempta- 
tion." 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"It  was  so,  especially  to  a  young  feller,"  re- 
marked  Mr.  Sanders.  "When  the  hosses  turned, 
I  fully  expected  Frank  to  stick  his  head  out  an*  use 
some  words  that  you  don't  hear  in  parlours  •  an* 
when  he  didn't,  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my  life. 
What  we  mought  'a'  done  if  you  hadn't  gone  an' 
kidnapped  yourself  right  before  our  face,  I  can't 
say.  I'm  like  the  feller  the  mule  kicked  in  the 
stomach.  Says  he,  '  I  seed  her  switch  her  tail  — 
that  I  seed  p'intedly.  What  she  done  atter  that,  I 
can't  say.' " 

"If  you  would  only  trust  me,  Mr.  President!" 
exclaimed  Mr.  Stanton.  There  was  no  bitterness 
in  his  voice. 

"  Why,  I  trust  you  precisely  as  far  as  I  can  trust 
myself,"  replied  Mr.  Lincoln,  earnestly.  "  No  man 
could  do  more;  would  any  other  man  do  as 
much?" 

The  Secretary  made  no  reply.  He  resumed  his 
spectacles  and  turned  to  Bethune. 

"  But  why,  now  that  the  affair  is  over,  do  you 
come  in  here  and  admit  what  nobody  could  have 
proved  ?  What  is  Doyle  to  you  ? " 

"  Less  than  nothing,  Mr.  Secretary.  I  think  the 
President  understands  my  motives." 

"Perfectly,  perfectly,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln.  "But 
I  don't  understand  why  you  changed  your  mind 
when  you  had  everything  in  your  own  hands." 

240 


THE   KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN 

"Well,  I  can  only  say  this,  Mr.  President,  that 
if  the  plain  people  of  the  South  knew  you  as  well 
as  we  know  you,  the  war  wouldn't  last  much 
longer." 

Mr.  Lincoln  arose  from  his  chair  and  laid  his 
hand  on  Bethune's  shoulder.  "  My  son,"  he  said 
solemnly,  "  no  human  being  ever  did  or  ever  can 
pay  me  a  higher  compliment  than  that.  I  wish  all 
your  people  would  take  a  month  off  and  come  up 
here  to  kidnap  me !  " 

"They  are  engaged  in  some  such  adventure 
now,"  remarked  Mr.  Stanton,  dryly. 

The  President  paid  no  attention  to  the  remark, 
but  walked  about  the  room  with  his  hands  behind 
him  and  his  head  forward.  Finally  he  paused  and 
stood  before  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders,  his  feet 
planted  somewhat  apart. 

"I'll  tell  you  gentlemen  the  honest  truth,"  he 
declared,  raising  his  right  arm  high  above  his  head ; 
"  my  heart  bleeds  night  and  day  for  every  wound 
the  war  inflicts  on  both  sides.  If  I  know  my  own 
mind,  I  know  no  North  and  no  South.  All  that  I 
hope  for  and  pray  for  is  the  Union  —  the  Union 
preserved,  and  the  Union  at  peace,  with  all  factions 
and  all  parties  working  together  for  the  glory  and 
greatness  of  the  Republic.  I  would,  if  I  could, 
take  the  South  in  my  arms  and  soothe  all  her 
troubles,  and  wipe  out  all  the  old  difficulties  and 

341 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

differences,  and  start  the  Nation  on  a  new  career. 
I  have  the  will,  but  not  the  power."  He  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  resumed  with  a  smile,  "  Stanton 
there  says  I'm  a  politician,  and  I  reckon  I  am,  but 
if  I  were  nothing  else,  I'd  be  ashamed  of  myself." 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  Bethune,  gravely,  "  if  we 
had  found  you  to  be  a  politician,  petulant  and 
intriguing,  you  wouldn't  be  here  to-night." 

"Ain't  it  the  truth!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sanders, 
with  unction. 

"Well,  Mr.  President,"  remarked  Mr.  Stanton, 
arising  from  his  chair,  "your  friends  are  more 
agreeable  than  I  supposed  they  would  be.  But 
hereafter  I  hope  you  will  believe  that  I  know  what 
I  am  talking  about." 

"Why,  I  never  doubted  it,'*  Mr.  Lincoln  de- 
clared; "but  you'll  have  to  take  me  as  you  find 
me." 

"  The  trouble  wi'  him,  Mr.  President,"  said  Mr. 
Sanders,  "  is  that  he's  afraid  he'll  not  be  able  to 
find  you." 

The  Secretary  regarded  Mr.  Sanders  from  be- 
hind his  inscrutable  glasses,  smiled  faintly,  and 
exclaimed,  "  Ain't  it  the  truth  !  "  Then,  as  if  the 
effort  to  mimic  Mr.  Sanders  had  thawed  him  out, 
he  shook  hands  with  the  two  Southerners,  laugh- 
ing softly  to  himself,  and  went  out.  The  episode 
was  sufficient  to  show  that  the  great  War  Secretary 

242 


THE  KIDNAPPING  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

(and  he  was  truly  great  in  his  line)  could  be  agree- 
able when  he  chose  to  be. 

"That's  the  only  fun  he's  had  since  the  war 
begun,"  Mr.  Lincoln  asserted. 

Nothing  more  remains  to  be  told.  Bethune,  Mr. 
Sanders,  and  Mrs.  Elise  Clopton  had  no  difficulty 
in  making  their  way  South.  They  had  an  escort 
through  the  Federal  lines,  and  were  turned  over  to 
their  compatriots  under  a  flag  of  truce. 


243 


THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN  McCARTHY 


COLONEL  ALBERT  LAMAR,  of  Georgia,  who  was 
secretary  or  clerk  of  the  Confederate  Senate  at 
Richmond,  used  to  tell  his  intimate  friends  that  the 
mystery  of  Philip  Doyle  was  one  of  the  few  things 
in  his  experience  that  had  kept  him  awake  o'  nights. 
Those  who  have  followed  the  course  of  the  preced- 
ing narratives  will  remember  Mr.  Doyle  as  the 
obliging  gentleman  who  was  kind  enough  to  af- 
ford Francis  Bethune  an  opportunity  to  run  his 
neck  in  a  halter.  This  mystery,  briefly  stated,  was 
this :  Given  the  fact  that  Mr.  Doyle  was  in  the 
employ  of  the  Federal  secret  service,  how  did  he 
manage  to  obtain  an  important  position  in  one 
of  the  departments  of  the  Confederate  govern- 
ment ? 

It  should  be  remembered  that  up  to  the  moment 
when  one  of  Captain  McCarthy's  clerks  in  the  New 
York  Hotel  interpreted  the  cipher  despatch  which 
had  been  intrusted  to  young  Bethune,  there  were 
but  two  men  in  the  Confederacy  who  suspected  Mr. 
247 


ON   THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

Doyle.  One  of  these  was  Colonel  Lamar  and  the 
other  was  John  Omahimdro,  who,  while  acting  as 
one  of  Jeb  Stuart's  scouts,  was  also  connected 
with  the  Confederate  secret  service. 

Doyle  seemed  to  be  high  in  the  confidence  of 
the  chiefs  of  the  various  bureaus,  but  Colonel 
Lamar  soon  discovered  that  this  impression  had 
been  produced  by  Doyle  himself,  not  alone  by  his 
attitude  and  manner  but  by  his  general  conversa- 
tion. Inquiry  also  developed  the  fact  that  none  of 
Doyle's  superiors  knew  anything  about  him  beyond 
the  fact  that  he  had  managed  by  some  means  or 
other  to  secure  a  position  to  which  were  attached 
few  duties  and  a  very  comfortable  salary.  Colo- 
nel Lamar,  who  seemed  to  be  always  taking  his 
time,  was  one  of  the  most  indefatigable  of  workers. 
His  easy-going  and  genial  manner  was  a  cloak  to 
a  temperament  at  once  fiery  and  reckless.  Step 
by  step,  he  pushed  his  way  back  through  various 
channels  of  information  until  he  found  that  Mr. 
Doyle  had  been  appointed  on  the  recommendation 
of  a  firm  of  London  bankers  which  was  not  as 
prominent  in  the  financial  world  then  as  it  is  to- 
day. Of  course  this  firm  had  connections  with 
Wall  Street,  just  as  it  had  with  all  the  money  cen- 
tres of  the  world.  But  the  problem  that  presented 
itself  to  the  mind  of  Colonel  Lamar  was  this  :  why 
did  this  British  firm  desire  to  have  Mr.  Doyle 

248 


THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

appointed  to  a  position  which  was  a  very  responsi- 
ble one,  even  if  its  duties  were  light  ? 

Now,  the  present  writer  has  no  intention  of  un- 
covering and  parading  in  print  the  various  inter- 
esting facts  which  this  investigation  brought  to 
light.  The  details  do  not  belong  to  history  as  it 
is  written.  Almost  without  exception,  since  money 
became  a  power,  the  real  politicians  in  all  ages  and 
countries  have  been  and  are  the  leading  financiers. 
Since  the  dawn  of  civilisation,  history  has  been 
made  up  of  conclusions  and  deductions  that  are 
not  only  superficial  but  false.  Your  true  historian 
will  be  the  man  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  gain 
access  to  the  records  of  the  most  powerful  financial 
institutions  of  the  various  nations  of  the  earth. 

The  great  political  leaders  of  the  world  who 
have  not  been  dominated  by  the  financiers  may 
be  numbered  on  the  fingers  of  your  hands  —  Wash- 
ington, Jefferson,  Lincoln,  and  a  few  others.  This 
is  true,  not  because  politicians  are  corrupt  (though 
many  of  them  fall  in  that  category),  but  because 
the  financial  interests  of  the  world  are  more  pow- 
erful, and  in  the  minds  of  a  majority  of  men,  more 
important,  than  all  the  superficial  issues  of  poli- 
tics. Thus  it  is  that  parties,  political  contests, 
wars,  and  all  great  movements  are  so  manipulated 
by  the  master  minds  of  finance  that  neither  the 
beneficiaries  nor  the  victims  have  any  notion  of 
249 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

the  real  issues  that  have  been  contended  for,  or 
the  results  that  have  been  brought  about. 

These  manipulations  do  not  constitute,  they  are 
the  origin  of  history,  and  it  is  only  occasionally 
that  they  may  be  said  to  become  obvious.  Suffi- 
cient has  been  said  to  indicate  why  the  facts  and 
names  which  yielded  themselves  up  to  the  pressure 
of  Colonel  Lamar's  energetic  investigations  cannot 
be  made  public.  It  should  be  said  in  Mr.  Doyle's 
behalf  that  he,  himself,  had  no  actual  knowledge 
of  the  real  interests  he  was  serving.  He  had  very 
genuine  feelings  of  patriotism  —  those  feelings 
which  cool  heads  and  master  minds  find  it  so  easy 
to  take  advantage  of.  He  was  heartily  for  the 
Union,  and,  in  addition  to  that,  he  was  ambitious 
to  rise  and  shine  in  the  service  to  which  he  was 
devoting  himself. 

Indeed,  it  was  his  personal  ambition  that  de- 
stroyed his  usefulness  at  the  Confederate  capital. 
He  had  a  great  deal  more  adroitness  and  dexterity 
in  his  profession  than  has  been  indicated,  but  he 
was  anxious  to  attract  Mr.  Stanton's  attention,  and 
he  supposed  that  something  sensational  was  neces- 
sary to  that  end.  The  trap  he  laid  for  Francis 
Bethune  would  have  succeeded  beyond  all  question 
if  his  scheme  had  provided  against  such  a  contin- 
gency (for  instance)  as  Mr.  Sanders.  In  the 
nature  of  things  this  was  impossible,  for  the  reason 

250 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

that  the  personality  of  Mr.  Sanders  was  unique. 
Nor  could  Mr.  Doyle  provide  against  the  swift 
suspicions  of  John  Omahundro.  Nevertheless, 
when  all  his  energies  were  aroused,  Philip  Doyle 
was  a  very  shrewd  and  capable  man. 

The  morning  after  Bethune  and  Mr.  Sanders 
started  on  their  journey,  he  got  hold  of  a  piece  of 
information  that  seemed  to  him  to  be  of  the  ut- 
most importance.  Quite  by  accident,  he  learned 
of  the  bureau  of  the  Confederate  secret  service 
which  had  its  headquarters  in  the  New  York 
Hotel.  Careful  inquiry  in  the  right  direction 
enabled  him  to  procure  a  list  of  the  officers  and 
employees  serving  this  bureau. 

Now  this  was  information  of  the  first  class,  and 
Mr.  Doyle  deemed  it  of  sufficient  importance  to 
justify  his  prompt  retirement  from  Richmond. 
He  was  delayed  for  several  days  by  urgent  busi- 
ness but,  as  we  have  seen,  he  arrived  in  Washing- 
ton on  the  night  that  President  Lincoln  insisted  on 
having  himself  kidnapped.  The  next  morning  his 
presence  became  known  to  Omahundro,  who  car- 
ried this  information  to  McCarthy's  lieutenant  at 
the  Federal  capital.  The  day  after,  this  advertise- 
ment appeared  in  the  "  Personal "  column  of  the 
New  York  Herald:  — 

"  To  Terence  Nagle,  late  of  Augusta,  Georgia : 
Jack  sends  this  message  to  Mack.  Fix  up  the 

251 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

house  for  company,  and  be  sure  the  dishes  are 
washed  clean.  The  web-patterned  doylies  should 
be  well  laundried.  Jack." 

This  advertisement  appeared  twice,  and  on  its 
second  appearance  it  caught  the  eye  of  a  cabman 
who  was  waiting  for  a  fare  near  the  New  York 
Hotel.  He  dismounted  from  his  seat  and  saun- 
tered toward  the  entrance,  where  a  porter  was 
sweeping. 

"Where's  the  Nagle  lad?"  he  asked. 

The  porter  looked  around.  "  Answerin'  a  bell,  I 
dunno." 

"So.  I'd  have  a  worrud  wit'  him,  whin  it's 
convaynient." 

The  cabman  went  back  to  his  vehicle  and  paced 
up  and  down  beside  it.  Presently  Terence  came 
to  the  door,  flourishing  a  whisk  broom.  "  Oh !  'tis 
you,  Mike." 

"  Hev  ye  seen  the  Hurld  the  day  ?  "  He  took 
it  from  his  pocket  and  laid  his  heavy  forefinger 
upon  the  advertisement. 

Terence  scanned  it  carefully.  Then  he  laughed 
and  held  up  both  hands  in  admiration.  "  What  a 
man  is  Captain  Mack!"  he  exclaimed.  "He 
heard  the  news  ahead  of  the  editor ;  upon  me  soul 
he  did.  Before  the  breakfast  hour  yisterday  morn- 
in*  the  clane-up  was  over  an'  done  wit'  an'  the  ould 
man  an'  the  b'ys  was  gone." 

252 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

"An'  Terence  lift  in  the  lurch,  b'gobs!"  said 
the  cabman. 

"  In  the  lurch,  is  it  ? "  retorted  Terence,  glowing 
with  good  humour.  "  Says  the  Captain  to  me, '  My 
lad,  I'm  lavin'  ye  for  to  do  the  head  worruk,'  says 
he.  '  Ye  have  a  cool  head,'  he  says,  '  a  keen  eye, 
an'  a  clane  mind,'  he  says,  'an'  I'm  trustin'  in  ye 
discrateness  altogether.' " 

"  Did  he  say  that  now  ?  "  cried  the  cabman,  ap- 
pearing to  be  highly  pleased. 

"He  did,"  replied  Terence,  "  an'  he  said  more; 
he  said,  says  he,  '  Do  ye  give  my  regards  to  Mike 
an'  the  b'ys,'  he  says,  'an'  tell  'em  for  to  tip 
Terence  the  wink  whin  they  have  fares  for  231 
Plaisdell  Avenue,  Brooklyn.' " 

"B'gobs,  we'll  do't! "  said  Mike,  the  cabman. 

"  If  there's  no  more'n  four,  ye're  to  give  me  the 
wink,  drive  about  a  bit,  an'  then  take  'em  straight 
to  the  number,  where  they'll  find  rist  an'  refrish- 
ment  for  man  an'  baste.  An'  if  me  two  eyes  tell 
me  no  lies,  the  chanst  is  runnin'  right  at  ye  head- 
foremost." This  last  remark  was  made  pertinent 
by  the  appearance  of  two  men  in  the  doorway  of 
the  hotel.  One  of  them  turned  back  to  buy  a 
couple  of  cigars ;  the  other  came  toward  the  cab. 
Just  then  Terence  was  hitting  the  rolled  curtains 
of  the  vehicle  a  lick  or  two  with  the  whisk  broom 
and  saying,  "  If  ye  were  a  bit  tidier  maybe  ye'd 
253 


play  to  a  bigger  aujience."  He  turned  when  the 
gentleman  came  up. 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  Brooklyn  ? "  asked 
the  newcomer. 

"'Twas  there  I  lived  whin  I  first  landed,"  re- 
plied the  cabman. 

"Well,  my  friend  and  I  want  to  go  to  231  Plais- 
dell  Avenue ;  are  you  acquainted  with  the  local- 
ity?" 

"  I  know  it  well  enough  to  drive  ye  there,  sir ; 
but  ye'll  find  it  chaper  to  go  by  'bus  and  ferry." 

"  But  we're  in  a  hurry,"  the  gentleman  ex- 
plained.  "We  have  a  friend  there  who  may 
perhaps  desire  to  return  with  us." 

The  cabman  bowed  and  opened  the  door  of  his 
vehicle.  From  under  his  own  seat  he  drew  a 
duster,  and  with  this  he  carefully  brushed  the 
cushions  inside.  This  done,  the  two  gentlemen 
took  their  seats,  and  the  cab  moved  off. 

In  this  case  the  cabman  had  been  under  no 
necessity  of  tipping  the  wink  to  Terence,  the  bell- 
boy. That  lively  lad  had  been  on  hand  with  his 
ears  open,  and,  in  answer  to  an  imaginary  sum- 
mons from  the  office,  he  went  running  into  the 
hotel. 

"I'm  for  Brooklyn,  sir,"  he  said  to  the  clerk, 
and  that  functionary  smiled,  and  bowed  an  affable 
consent.  But  an  instant  was  required  for  Terence 

254 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

to  change  his  blouse  working-jacket  for  coat  and 
waistcoat.  Running  out  through  the  ladies'  en- 
trance, he  climbed  to  the  side  of  a  burly-looking 
cabman,  said  something  in  his  ear  which  caused 
him  to  arouse  himself  with  a  smile.  He  looked  at 
his  watch  as  he  gathered  up  the  reins,  and  smacked 
his  lips  over  its  white  face.  His  cab  was  drawn 
by  two  horses,  and  they  seemed  to  be  very  spirited 
animals  when  in  motion. 

"  Now,  Barney,  do  ye  know  what's  to  be  done  ?" 
asked  Terence. 

"  If  Mike  knows  as  well,"  replied  Barney,  "both 
jobs'll  be  well  done.  But  mind  you,  what  chasin's 
to  be  done,  must  be  done  in  the  village  where 
there's  nothin'  but  preachers  an'  babies." 

"  Mike  knows,"  said  Terence,  confidently. 

"  Then  we'll  be  first  at  the  finish,  with  forty-five 
minutes  to  spare.  Does  the  old  man  need  more'n 
that?" 

Terence  laughed  exultantly.  "Says  Captain 
Mack,  says  he, '  Give  me  tin  minutes,  me  lad,'  says 
he,  'an'  we'll  have  court  in  session  whin  our 
friends  come,'  he  says." 

As  Barney,  with  his  two  smart  horses,  was  turn- 
ing out  of  Broadway  to  go  into  a  street  where 
there  were  fewer  obstacles,  he  nudged  his  com- 
panion and  pointed  with  his  whip.  A  block  away, 
Mike  and  his  fares  had  been  caught  in  one  of  the 
255 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

jams  for  which  the  lower  part  of  Broadway  is 
famous.  This  particular  jam  seemed  to  be  as 
impassable  as  a  lumber  boom,  and  it  was  all  occa- 
sioned by  a  half  dozen  words  in  Gaelic  spoken  to 
the  drivers  of  two  big  trucks. 

The  cabmen  and  the  two  truckmen  shook  their 
fists  at  one  another  defiantly,  and  used  language 
which,  to  say  the  least,  was  not  invented  in  the 
mild  atmosphere  of  the  parlour.  The  blockade 
attracted  attention  for  several  blocks.  It  had 
sprung  up,  as  it  were,  unexpectedly.  It  was 
begun  and  carried  out  with  great  vehemence  of 
language  and  gesture.  A  half  dozen  policemen, 
men  of  long  experience  in  such  matters,  did  their 
utmost  to  straighten  out  matters  and  provide  a 
channel  for  traffic.  If  the  jam  had  occurred  at 
a  crossing,  all  would  have  been  well,  but  its  centre 
was  in  the  middle  of  two  long  blocks,  and  the 
vehicles  that  were  caught  in  it  found  it  impossible 
to  beat  a  retreat. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  asked  one  of  Mike's 
passengers,  putting  his  head  out  of  the  window. 

"  'Tis  the  diwle  an'  all  to  pay,  sir,"  answered 
Mike,  looking  at  his  watch.  Ten  minutes  and 
more  had  been  gained.  He  nodded  his  head  to 
truckman  No.  I,  who  waved  his  hand  at  truckman 
No.  2. 

Then,  "  Hi,  there !  "  said  No.  I.  "  Look  sharp, 
256 


there ! "  cried  No.  2.  And,  lo !  what  the  police- 
men had  failed  to  do,  was  accomplished  in  five 
minutes,  for  in  that  space  of  time,  the  blockade 
melted  away,  and  traffic  resumed  its  tireless  march. 

The  ferry  at  which  Mike,  the  cabman,  crossed 
was  thirty  minutes  farther  from  Plaisdell  Avenue 
than  the  one  at  which  Barney  and  Terence  had 
crossed,  and  he  made  the  distance  still  longer  by 
indulging  in  some  of  those  tricks  of  driving  that 
are  a  part  of  the  cabman's  trade. 

Finally,  however,  the  vehicle  drew  up  at  231, 
and  Mike  dismounted  from  the  seat  to  open  the 
door. 

"  You  will  wait  for  us,"  said  the  gentleman  who 
had  engaged  the  cab. 

"  Will  ye  be  long,  sir  ? "  Mike's  tone  was  ex- 
tremely solicitous  as  he  consulted  his  watch. 

"Why,  no,"  replied  the  gentleman  who  had 
acted  throughout  as  spokesman. 

"  As  much  as  an  hour,  sir  ? "  insisted  the  cabman. 

"Why,  certainly  not.  Ten  minutes  at  the 
most,"  the  gentleman  asserted. 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  remarked  the  cabman,  and  he 
regarded  the  two  men  with  an  expression  on  his 
face  which  they  remembered  afterward. 


257 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 


II 

Now,  one  of  those  gentlemen  was  Mr.  Philip 
Doyle,  of  whom  we  have  heard,  and  the  other  was 
Mr.  William  Webb,  the  accomplished  officer  who 
had  fallen  into  conversation  with  our  old  friend 
Sanders  in  the  dining  room  of  the  New  York 
Hotel.  Mr.  Doyle  had  a  fair  reputation  with  his 
superiors  for  energy  and  sagacity,  but  Mr.  Webb 
was  the  pride  of  the  secret  service  bureau,  and  he 
was  very  ambitious.  Moreover,  he  was  almost  as 
intensely  devoted  to  the  cause  of  the  Union  as  Mr. 
Stanton.  No  fatigue  was  too  great  for  him  to 
undergo  in  the  performance  of  his  duties.  He 
had  a  clear  head  and  high  courage,  and  all  his 
faculties  were  keenly  developed. 

When  Mr.  Doyle  came  up  from  the  South, 
Webb  was  naturally  the  first  person  he  sought  out, 
after  reporting  to  his  chief.  He  had  worked  with 
Webb,  and  liked  him,  and,  while  in  the  South,  had 
been  under  Webb's  direction.  The  trouble  with 
Doyle  was  that  he  set  too  much  store  by  his  per- 
sonal ambition.  He  was  for  the  Union,  of  course, 
but  first  and  foremost  he  was  for  Mr.  Philip  Doyle. 

Therefore,  instead  of  laying  the  information  he 
had  before  the  chief  of  the  bureau,  he  kept  it  to 
himself,  until  he  found  an  opportunity  to  consult 
258 


THE   WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

with  Webb.  The  temptation  which  the  situation 
presented  to  the  latter  was  not  as  strong,  perhaps, 
as  it  was  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Doyle ;  but  it  existed. 
It  would  be  a  great  stroke  if  he,  with  Doyle,  should 
be  the  means  of  unearthing  the  conspiracy  against 
the  Government  and  arresting  the  man  who  was 
responsible  therefor. 

"  Have  you  the  documentary  proof  in  your  pos- 
session ? "  Mr.  Webb  asked  Doyle  at  their  private 
consultation.  "  It  is  very  important  to  have  that. 
It  is  easy  enough  to  arrest  men  promiscuously, 
as  has  been  done  on  too  many  occasions.  What 
we  want  is  the  actual  proof." 

For  answer,  Mr.  Doyle  took  from  the  breast- 
pocket of  his  coat  a  package  of  papers  and  handed 
them  to  his  companion,  who  examined  them  very 
carefully. 

"  If  you  think  that  settles  it,"  Webb  said  with 
a  smile,  "  wouldn't  it  be  best  to  lay  these  docu- 
ments before  the  chief,  get  an  order  for  a  provost's 
guard,  and  make  an  end  of  the  matter  ?  " 

"  And  when  that  is  done,  where  would  the  credit 
lie  ?  "  Mr.  Doyle  inquired. 

"Why,  with  the  bureau,  of  course,"  was  the 
response. 

"  But  if  we  undertake  it  and  carry  it  out  success- 
fully :  what  then  ? " 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Mr.  Webb.  "  You  are 
259 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

sure  you  have  said  nothing  of  this  to  any  one 
else?" 

"  Why,  I  haven't  had  time  to  think  about  it  until 
now,"  Mr.  Doyle  declared.  "I  hoped  to  make 
a  big  strike  by  the  arrest  of  the  fellows  who  were 
plotting  to  kidnap  Mr.  Lincoln;  but  you  know 
what  a  failure  that  was." 

"I  do,  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Webb.  "Alto- 
gether, it  is  the  most  peculiar  case  I  ever  heard 
of.  I  have  been  trying  to  unravel  it  to  my  satis- 
faction ;  but  the  more  I  think  about  it,  the  more 
mysterious  it  becomes.  And  then,  there's  that 
chap,  Awtry.  He  has  resigned  and  gone  South 
with  Bethune  and  the  old  buffoon." 

"  Well,  Awtry  is  a  Southern  man,  you  know,  and 
the  people  down  there  —  or  the  most  of  them  — 
act  on  principles  that  are  dim  to  me,"  remarked 
Mr.  Doyle.  "But  about  this  case  of  ours:  what 
shall  we  do  about  it?  Can't  you  get  a  signed 
order  for  the  arrest  of  this  man?" 

"Oh,  there's  no  difficulty  about  the  order  of 
arrest.  Such  orders  are  thick  as  leaves  on  the 
trees,"  replied  Mr.  Webb.  "I  am  well  acquainted 
with  the  head  waiter  of  the  New  York  Hotel. 
If  he  is  the  man  we  want,  there  can  be  no  diffi- 
culty about  arresting  him.  He  is  rather  a  shrewd 
man.  He  sees  through  all  my  disguises  without 
trouble;  but  I  judge  from  his  face  that  he  was 

260 


THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

once  an  actor,  and  that  he  has  some  weakness 
which  has  prevented  him  from  following  his  pro- 
fession. That's  the  way  I've  sized  him  up.  A  more 
amiable  man  I  have  never  met,  and  he  seems  to 
know  how  to  hold  his  tongue.  Now,  the  character 
of  work  that  has  been  mapped  out  at  the  New 
York  Hotel,  and  successfully  carried  out  by  the 
Confederate  agents,  would  never  be  in  the  hands 
of  a  man  willing  to  accept  a  menial  position. 
Take  the  case  as  it  stands:  why  should  a  man 
capable  of  such  work  desire  to  figure  in  a  position 
that  is  at  least  servile?  All  he  has  to  do  is  to 
lock  himself  in  a  room,  and  his  whereabouts  would 
never  be  suspected." 

"But  here  are  the  documents,"  Mr.  Doyle 
insisted. 

"  True,"  replied  Webb ;  "  but  how  do  you  know 
these  very  documents  were  not  intended  to  mis- 
lead ?  You  must  remember  that  the  business  we 
are  engaged  in  requires  considerable  headwork. 
We  must  never  underrate  the  abilities  of  an  oppo- 
nent. That  a  very  shrewd  and  shifty  man  is  doing 
this  secret  service  work  for  the  rebels  is  very  evi- 
dent to  me.  Is  it  likely  that  his  name  and  object 
would  be  spread  out  on  the  Records  in  Richmond  ? 
Now,  I  think  not." 

"  But  they  were  not  *  spread  out,'  as  you  call  it," 
said  Doyle.  "They  were  in  a  very  safe  place, 
'261 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

and  it  was  only  by  accident  that  they  came  into 
my  hands." 

"There  is  another  fact  to  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration," pursued  Webb,  who  was  very  fond 
of  his  theories,  and  very  happy,  as  he  supposed, 
in  inventing  them.  The  reader  will  admit,  too, 
that  his  deductions  were  logical.  "  Another  fact, 
and  a  very  important  one,"  he  repeated,  and  then 
paused. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  inquired  Doyle. 

"Why,  the  general  character  of  the  Southern 
people,  and  the  particular  characteristics  of  a 
Southern  man  capable  of  managing  a  secret  ser- 
vice bureau  in  the  heart  of  the  enemy's  country. 
I  know  something  of  these  people,  but  you  know 
more.  Now,  I  ask  you  again,  is  it  at  all  likely 
that  a  man  who  is  in  a  position  to  command  men 
would  stoop  to  flourish  a  towel  and  usher  guests 
to  their  seats  in  a  public  dining  room  ?  Why,  such 
service  would  leave  a  bad  taste  in  my  mouth,  and 
in  yours.  This  being  the  case,  how  would  it  affect 
the  pride  of  our  friend,  the  enemy  ? " 

"Still  — "  Doyle  was  going  on  to  repeat  his 
belief  in  the  records  he  had  abstracted,  but  Webb 
interrupted  him. 

"I'm  only  trying  to  prepare  you  for  the  inevi- 
table," he  said.  "  I'm  going  with  you,  and  I  pro- 
pose to  act  just  as  if  I  placed  as  much  confidence 
262 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

in  these  documents  as  you  do.  More  than  that, 
if  we  succeed,  the  credit  shall  all  be  placed  to  your 
account.  If  we  fail,  I'll  share  the  failure  with  you. 
I  am  simply  trying  to  show  you  that  what  is  true 
must  be  reasonable." 

"But  if  we  fail,"  suggested  Doyle,  "no  one 
need  know  about  it." 

"True  enough,"  responded  Webb;  "but  I'll 
know  it,  and  you'll  know  it.  That  is  the  reason 
I  have  been  at  some  pains  to  give  you  my  views 
on  the  subject.  The  head  waiter's  name  is 
McCarthy;  that  much  I  am  certain  of.  And 
your  documents  say  that  an  inquiry  for  McCarthy 
means  an  inquiry  for  the  chief  of  the  bureau  in 
New  York.  Well,  we'll  try  our  hands.  If  we 
fail,  well  and  good." 

Mr.  Doyle  was  careful  not  to  produce  his  list 
of  active  agents  and  clerks  of  the  bureau.  He 
kept  this  for  his  own  use,  hoping  to  bring  himself 
still  more  prominently  to  the  attention  of  his 
superiors  by  arresting  the  agents  and  clerks  one 
at  a  time.  He  had  mapped  out  a  very  successful 
programme  in  his  mind,  and  saw  himself  advanced 
in  the  line  of  promotion  until  he  became  famous 
all  over  the  world.  His  professional  pride,  as 
such,  was  devoted  wholly  to  his  own  advancement, 
whereas,  Mr.  Webb,  with  less  energy,  rather  liked 
his  work;  and  when  one  of  his  theories  turned 

263 


ON   THE   WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

out  to  be  the  true  one,  he  rejoiced  over  it  as  the 
artist  does  who  makes  a  happy  stroke  with  his 
brush. 

The  two  men  took  the  night  train  for  New 
York,  where  they  arrived  at  an  early  hour,  and 
were  driven  at  once  to  the  New  York  Hotel. 
They  secured  a  room  and  were  soon  in  the  dining 
room.  A  head  waiter  was  on  hand,  but  he  was 
not  McCarthy.  Presently  Mr.  Webb  called  the 
man  and  asked  for  McCarthy. 

"  Why,  I  think  he  is  ill,  sir,  but  the  gentleman 
in  the  office  can  tell  you  more  about  it.  I  was 
suddenly  called  to  take  his  place  yesterday,  and 
I  heard  some  one  say  he  was  ill." 

The  man  who  brought  their  breakfast  had  prac- 
tically the  same  report  to  make.  He  had  heard 
that  the  former  head  waiter  was  ill.  He  was  not 
sure,  but  he  thought  it  was  a  sudden  attack  of 
inflammatory  rheumatism. 

At  the  office  the  gentlemanly  clerk  was  cool,  but 
polite.  He  had  not  heard  of  McCarthy's  absence 
or  illness,  but  the  evidence  should  be  at  hand.  He 
searched  awhile,  and  was  about  to  dismiss  the 
gentlemen,  when,  as  it  seemed,  a  thought  struck 
him. 

"Wait!"  he  said,  snapping  his  finger  impa- 
tiently ;  "  I  believe  I've  been  looking  over  the 
wrong  file-hook." 

364 


THE   WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

In  five  minutes  he  came  across  a  note  from  a 
physician  stating  that  the  head  waiter  was  ill  at 
his  home,  231  Plaisdell  Avenue,  Brooklyn.  "In- 
flammatory rheumatism.  Be  unable  to  report  for 
duty  for  several  days ;  perhaps  for  several  weeks." 
So  the  clerk  interpreted  the  scrawl  spread  out  over 
the  face  of  the  certificate.  Mr.  Webb  wrote  the 
name  of  the  street  and  the  number  in  his  memo- 
randum-book, and  shortly  afterward,  as  we  have 
seen,  engaged  a  cab  to  take  his  companion  and 
himself  to  the  house. 


Ill 


Number  231  was  part  of  a  brick  tenement,  and 
was  marked  by  very  neat  surroundings.  At  the 
moment  when  the  two  visitors  arrived,  there  was 
more  of  a  bustle  about  the  place  than  Mr.  Webb 
deemed  desirable.  A  large  truck  drawn  by  two 
heavy-built  horses  had  backed  up  to  the  pavement 
opposite  the  adjoining  number,  and  several  stout 
men  in  blouses  were  standing  around  apparently 
awaiting  orders.  Evidently  some  one  was  moving 
in  or  out  of  No.  233. 

The  door  of  No.  231  opened  promptly  in  re- 
sponse to  the  ringing  of  the  bell,  and  Webb  and 
Doyle  were  ushered  into  the  sitting  room  and  then 
into  a  smaller  room  in  which  was  a  writing-desk 

265 


ON  THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

and  a  chintz-covered  sofa  with  cushioned  chairs  to 
match.  As  the  two  men  disappeared,  Mike,  the 
cabman,  remarked  to  Barney,  who  was  now  arrayed 
in  blue  overalls. 

"Oh,  Barney!  he  says  he'll  be  out  in  tin 
minutes." 

"  Did  he  say  that,  now  ? "  replied  Barney,  with 
a  grin  and  a  grimace  that  would  have  made  his 
fortune  on  the  vaudeville  stage. 

"  He  did,  b'gobs !    He  says  them  very  wurruds." 

By  way  of  c  mment  Barney  raised  his  hands  and 
let  them  fall  again  in  a  despairing  gesture,  as  if 
there  could  be  no  hope  for  a  man  who  made  such 
offhand  remarks. 

The  room  in  which  Webb  and  Doyle  found  them- 
selves was,  as  has  been  already  hinted,  very 
modestly  furnished.  The  pictures  on  the  wall 
were  cheap,  but,  with  one  exception,  they  were 
fair  reproductions  of  some  of  the  old  masterpieces. 
The  exception  was  the  portrait  of  a  wonderfully 
beautiful  young  girl.  Mr.  Webb  had  a  daughter, 
and  the  portrait  fascinated  him. 

Suddenly  the  door  opposite  the  one  by  which 
they  entered  was  thrown  half  open,  and  a  lad  with 
a  pleasant  face  called  out :  — 

"  He  would  speak  with  Mr.  Dyle." 

"  Do  you  mean  Doyle  ? "  inquired  the  owner  of 
the  name. 


THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

"  Sure,  sir ;  I  said  Dyle." 

Mr.  Doyle  turned  an  inquiring  eye  on  Mr.  Webb, 
who,  after  reflecting  a  moment,  nodded  his  head, 
and  Doyle  followed  the  lad.  The  door  was  shut 
after  him  with  something  like  a  bang.  Mr.  Webb 
had  no  opportunity  to  theorise  about  this  bang,  for 
the  door  near  him  opened  and  Captain  McCarthy 
entered.  He  greeted  Mr.  Webb  with  a  cordial 
smile,  and  shook  hands  with  an  appearance  of 
heartiness  which  took  the  detective  somewhat 
aback. 

"  Why,  I  heard  you  were  ill  with  rheumatism," 
remarked  Mr.  Webb. 

"And  you  thought  a  change  of  air  would  be 
good  for  me,"  suggested  Captain  McCarthy,  smiling. 
"  Well,  I  have  heard  stranger  and  truer  things  than 
that." 

"  Did  you  send  for  Doyle  just  now  ? "  inquired 
Webb.  Never  in  his  life  did  he  feel  less  like  per- 
forming a  disagreeable  duty. 

"  He  was  summoned  from  the  room  because  I 
wanted  to  have  a  private  conversation  with  you," 
said  McCarthy,  seating  himself.  He  regarded  the 
portrait  of  the  child  intently  for  a  moment  and 
then  turned  to  the  detective. 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  sir,"  he  asked  courte- 
ously, "  that  perhaps  you  were  after  the  wrong  man 
— that,  in  ordej  to  do  successfully  what  is,  for  the 

267 


ON   THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

moment,  your  duty,  you  should  strike  higher  than  a 
poor  old  hotel  servant  ?  " 

"  I  have  certainly  had  some  such  thought,"  re- 
plied Webb.  "  Nevertheless,  my  duty  compels 
me  —  " 

At  that  moment  the  door  through  which  Doyle 
had  made  his  exit  was  opened,  and  Terence  Nagle 
came  in  with  an  apologetic  smile.  He  held  some 
papers  in  his  hand.  "  The  gentleman  says  ye're 
welcome  to  these  if  they'll  do  you  any  good,  sir. 
His  wurrud,  sir,  was  that  he'd  see  you  later." 

"Very  well,  my  lad.  Whenever  it  suits  his  con- 
venience," remarked  Captain  McCarthy,  taking 
the  papers  and  giving  a  cursory  examination  to 
each. 

Mr.  Webb,  whose  duty  had  compelled  him  to 
half  rise  from  his  seat,  sank  back  in  his  chair  with  an 
exclamation  of  surprise.  He  saw  that  the  papers 
which  McCarthy  held  in  his  hands  were  the  docu- 
ments on  which  Doyle  had  depended  to  prove  the 
charges  to  be  brought  against  the  head  waiter  — 
the  charges  on  which  he  was  to  be  arrested. 

"  Is  Doyle  gone  ?  "  asked  Webb. 

"  I  can  best  answer  that  by  saying  that  the 
chances  are  you'll  never  see  him  again,"  answered 
McCarthy. 

"  Has  he  been  murdered?"  cried  the  other,  rising 

to  his  feet 

268 


THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

"  Tut,  man !  do  you  take  me  for  an  assassin  ?  If 
you  will  resume  your  seat  and  restrain  your  feel- 
ings, I  will  make  the  case  of  Mr.  Doyle  perfectly 
plain  to  you,  and  yours  as  well.  But  yours  first. 
Would  you  like  a  glass  of  wine  ? " 

"  Not  at  present,"  said  Mr.  Webb,  suspecting 
poison,  perhaps. 

"As  you  please,"  remarked  the  head  waiter. 
"  Now  then,  in  regard  to  your  affairs.  You  have 
a  brother  in  the  Confederate  Army." 

"That  is  true,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  responded 
Webb. 

"  I  see  no  cause  for  weeping,"  said  McCarthy, 
dryly.  "  Now,  six  —  yes,  eight  —  months  ago  this 
brother  of  yours  was  in  prison.  His  health  was 
not  good,  and  you  were  anxious  to  secure  his  re- 
lease. You  tried  every  honourable  plan  that  could 
suggest  itself  to  you,  and  at  last,  when  you  had 
come  to  the  end  of  your  resources,  your  brother 
was  still  languishing  —  yes,  that  is  the  word  — 
languishing  in  prison." 

"That  is  true,"  assented  Mr.  Webb,  uneasily. 

"Well,  what  happened  then  ? "  McCarthy  asked, 
fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  face  of  the  detective. 

Mr.  Webb  shifted  his  position,  and  finally 
arose  to  his  feet  and  crossed  the  room  as  if  to 
get  a  nearer  view  of  the  child's  portrait  on 
the  wall. 

269 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"That  is  my  daughter,"  remarked  Captain 
McCarthy. 

"She  is  very  beautiful,"  said  Mr.  Webb.  And 
then  there  came  a  knock  on  the  door,  and  Nora 
followed  the  knock  like  an  echo. 

"  Dada,"  she  cried,  shaking  her  hair  away  from 
a  face  in  which  modesty  and  mischief  were  carry- 
ing on  a  perpetual  contest,  "  dada,  the  cabman  is 
uneasy.  He  says  the  gentleman  was  to  keep  him 
waiting  only  ten  minutes."  She  turned  to  Mr. 
Webb  with  a  smile  and  a  blush. 

"  Mr.  Webb,  this  is  the  little  girl  of  the  picture. 
Nora,  darlin',  tell  the  cabman  that  his  fare  is  paid 
and  he  may  return  at  once.  The  gentleman  will 
remain  a  little  longer." 

"  The  picture  doesn't  do  her  justice,"  said  Mr. 
Webb. 

"Oh,  she'll  never  get  justice  this  side  of  Para- 
dise," exclaimed  Nora's  father  with  sparkling  eyes. 
"You  were  saying  —  " 

"  About  my  brother,"  responded  Mr.  Webb,  re- 
suming his  seat.  "  Well,  my  brother  is  very  dear 
to  me.  To  me  he  is  both  father  and  brother,  and 
my  affection  for  him  led  me  to  a  very  dishonourable 
action." 

"Oh,  we  are  not  discussing  principles,"  inter- 
rupted Captain  McCarthy.  "  We  shall  never  know 
the  exact  line  of  duty,  when  it  is  a  question 

270 


THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

between    kindred  and   country,   until  we  get  to 
heaven." 

"  If  we  ever  do  get  there,"  remarked  Mr. 
Webb. 

"  Certainly.  With  a  great  many,  that  is  also  an 
open  question.  Well,  at  any  rate,  you  owed  some 
sort  of  duty  to  your  brother." 

"Yes,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  had  a  com- 
mission as  an  officer  under  the  United  States  Gov- 
ernment, I  made  every  effort  to  aid  my  brother  to 
escape,  and  finally  succeeded.  The  only  time  my 
conscience  has  been  easy  in  the  matter  was  when 
I  saw  him  in  the  arms  of  our  old  mother,  and 
heard  her  thank  Heaven  that  her  eldest  son  was 
free  once  more.  But  how  did  the  facts  become 
known  to  you  ? " 

"  Why,  it  is  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world.  I 
was  working  to  the  same  end,  and  when  I  had 
everything  ready  I  found  that  some  one  had  inter- 
fered, and  my  scheme  fell  to  pieces.  But  when  I 
found  what  you  were  trying  to  do  I  joined  hands 
with  you,  and  your  plans  were  successful." 

"  Well,  upon  my  word !  "  exclaimed  Webb. 

"  Now,  then,  when  your  brother  was  delivered 
into  your  hands  on  that  dark  and  stormy  night,  he 
turned  back  to  the  carriage  in  which  he  had  come 
and  said  something  to  the  man  inside.  Do  you 
remember  what  it  was  ? " 
271 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"Certainly,"  responded  Mr.  Webb.  "He  said, 
'  Good-by,  Larry,  and  God  bless  you ! ' " 

"  Well,"  commented  the  head  waiter,  with  a  ten- 
der light  kindling  in  his  eyes,  "  my  name  is  Law- 
rence McCarthy,  and  the  chosen  few  of  the  men  of 
this  world  whom  God  permits  to  love  me,  call  me 
Larry." 

Again  Mr.  Webb  walked  across  the  room  and 
then  reseated  himself.  "Of  course  you  know  that 
this  information  you  have  given  me  completely  ties 
my  hands." 

"  Excuse  me,  sir ! "  said  Captain  McCarthy,  with 
stern  emphasis.  "We  are  not  children.  I  gave 
you  the  information  because  your  brother  Martin 
is  a  very  dear  friend  of  mine,  and  I  am  trying  to 
give  you  an  opportunity  to  withdraw  from  your  pur- 
suit of  a  poor  old  serving  man,  and  direct  it  toward 
those  who  are  worthier  of  your  attention.  You 
owe  me  no  gratitude,  and  I  do  not  propose  for  you 
to  go  away  from  here  (if  you  go  at  all)  under  any 
fancied  obligation  to  me.  What  I  did  or  tried  to 
do  for  your  brother  was  for  his  sake  alone,  and  the 
course  I  propose  to  take  with  you  is  for  his  sake 
and  not  for  yours.  But,  make  no  mistake  about 
it  —  I  am  under  no  obligations  to  him,  nor  he  to 
me.  In  the  course  of  Providence  it  happens  that 
his  name  is  written  on  the  tablets  of  my  friendship, 
and  there  it  will  remain." 
272 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

This,  of  course,  tended  to  throw  Mr.  Webb  back 
on  his  personal  dignity.  "My  duty — "  he  began, 
but  Captain  McCarthy  interrupted  him. 

"  Pardon  me !  I  am  not  discussing  duty.  The 
pursuit  of  that  lies  between  each  individual  and 
his  conscience.  What  I  propose  to  do,  if  I  can 
get  your  consent,  is  to  provide  for  my  own  safety 
by  providing  for  yours." 

"  You  think  I  am  in  your  power,  then  ? "  sug- 
gested Mr.  Webb. 

"  As  completely  so  as  if  I  had  you  surrounded 
with  a  regiment  of  men.  Not  only  that,  you  will 
be  in  my  power  should  you  leave  this  house  and 
return  to  Washington." 

"  Am  I  free  to  ask  an  explanation  ? "  re- 
marked Webb,  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm  in  his 
tone. 

"That  shall  be  forthcoming,  whether  you  ask 
it  or  not,"  was  the  response.  Captain  McCarthy 
went  to  his  desk  and  produced  a  copy  of  the 
Herald  of  the  day  before.  "Did  you,  by  any 
chance,  see  this  advertisement  in  the  Herald?  It 
was  printed  again  to-day."  He  indicated  with 
his  forefinger  the  "  Personal "  which  has  already 
been  given. 

Mr.  Webb  read  the  notice,  and  turned  to  Mc- 
Carthy with  an  expression  of  perplexity  in  his 
face.  "  Who  could  have  sent  that  ? " 

273 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

*  "  It  was  sent  by  a  person  who  is  unknown  to 
you.  You  will  observe  that  he  not  only  announces 
your  coming,  but  gives  your  name  and  that  of 
your  companion." 

"  But  no  one  knew  the  errand  we  were  coming 
on,"  protested  Mr.  Webb. 

"  Nevertheless,  the  person  who  sent  that  adver- 
tisement to  the  Herald  knew,"  remarked  the  head 
waiter  with  a  smile.  "  But  I  have  shown  you  the 
notice  merely  to  convince  you  that  your  movements 
are  perfectly  well  known  to  the  person  who  wrote 
that  warning.  It  may  interest  you  to  know  that 
this  man  has  in  his  hands  absolute  proofs  of  your 
complicity  in  the  escape  of  your  brother.  He  has 
affidavits  from  two  men  whom  you  employed  to 
aid  you." 

"  Well,  to  what  end  are  you  telling  me  all  this  ? " 
asked  Mr.  Webb,  drawing  himself  up. 

"  Does  it  not  occur  to  you  ?  Your  safety  is 
involved  in  your  silence  with  respect  to  me.  I 
suggest  that  you  impart  to  no  one  the  information 
you  have  received  from  this  man  Doyle  —  it  is 
there  on  my  desk  —  and  that  you,  personally, 
refrain  from  moving  against  me.  All  things 
considered,  it  is  not  an  immodest  nor  a  sweeping 
request.  Fly  at  whom  you  please,  but  leave  me 
alone.  Permit  an  old  serving  man  to  indulge  his 
whims  in  peace." 

274 


THE   WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

Mr.  Webb  laughed  with  genuine  amusement 
"  Whatever  you  are,"  he  said,  "  you  are  no  serving 
man.  You  may  be  a  preacher  or  an  actor,  but 
you  are  not  now  and  never  have  been  a  head 
waiter." 

Captain  McCarthy  smiled.  "That  is  a  queer 
statement  to  make  when  your  own  eyes  have  been 
witness  to  the  fact  that  I  performed  my  duties  in 
the  hotel  to  the  best  of  my  poor  ability." 

"  You  place  your  demand  —  that  is  what  it 
amounts  to  —  in  the  shape  of  a  suggestion.  If 
you  are  as  powerful  here  as  you  say  you  are,  why 
not  exact  pledges  ? " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  exclaimed  Captain  McCarthy, 
"  I  wouldn't  give  a  bad  shilling  for  a  mountain  of 
pledges  secured  by  compulsion.  You  have  re- 
flected, of  course,  that  I  have  made  no  requests  of 
your  late  companion,  the  man  Doyle.  I  have  dis- 
posed of  him  without  even  having  seen  his  face." 

"Well,  where  is  Doyle?"  asked  Mr.  Webb, 
betraying  some  excitement.  He  was  surprised 
that  his  companion's  continued  absence  had  not 
disturbed  him. 

"The  case  of  Mr.  Doyle  is  a  very  interesting 
one,"  Captain  McCarthy  explained.  "  He  has 
been  eating  the  bread  of  the  Confederate  govern* 
ment  with  his  mouth,  and  conspiring  against  it 
with  his  head  and  his  hands." 

275 


ON   THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"Others  have  been  using  the  United  States 
Government  in  the  same  way,"  retorted  Webb. 

"  That  may  be  so,  but  the  practice  of  what  is 
wrong  in  principle  does  not  make  it  right.  Mr. 
Doyle  accepted  an  important  office  under  the 
Confederate  government.  Was  the  oath  he  took 
when  he  received  his  commission  a  mere  for- 
mality? More  than  that,  he  suggested  the  kid- 
napping of  President  Lincoln  to  a  lad,  a  mere  boy, 
and  then  did  his  utmost  to  lead  this  lad  to  his  de- 
struction. The  youngster,  being  strangely  modest 
and  tractable  for  one  of  his  temper  and  training, 
submitted  himself  to  the  will  of  an  older  and  a  wiser 
head,  and  so  escaped.  But  Mr.  Doyle  will  not 
escape;  you  may  depend  upon  that." 

"  Is  he  in  the  next  room  ? "  asked  Webb. 

"Let  us  see,"  replied  Captain  McCarthy.  He 
led  the  way  to  the  door  by  which  Doyle  had 
passed,  and  opened  it.  There  was  another  door 
immediately  beyond  it,  which  Webb  rightly  judged 
led  into  the  adjoining  tenement.  Captain  McCarthy 
opened  this  second  door,  and  Webb  saw  that  the 
room  was  empty.  He  called  aloud  :  — 

"Doyle!  Doyle!  Phil!"  His  voice  rang 
strangely  in  the  chamber,  which,  but  for  some  loose 
litter  on  the  floor,  was  entirely  empty.  Webb 
turned  to  Captain  McCarthy. 

"  Man,  you'll  have  to  answer  for  this !  " 
276 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

"Possibly;  but  you  may  be  sure  that  Doyle  is 
on  the  way  to  answer  for  his  transactions." 

"  But  why  do  you  dispose  of  Doyle  and  make 
propositions  to  me  ? "  asked  Webb. 

"Suggestions — not  propositions,"  corrected  Cap- 
tain McCarthy.  "The  real  reason  is  as  I  have 
told  you.  Providence  has  been  kind  enough  to 
give  you  a  brother  whose  qualities  have  endeared 
him  to  me.  Now  let  me  ask  you  a  question :  why 
do  you  insist  on  putting  yourself  in  the  same  cate- 
gory with  this  man  Doyle  ? " 

Mr.  Webb  did  not  reply  to  the  question.  He 
sat  silent  a  long  time,  and  McCarthy  was  careful 
not  to  interrupt  his  reflection  with  idle  conversa- 
tion. 

"  I  think  I'll  take  that  glass  of  wine,  now,"  he 
said,  after  a  while. 

The  wine  was  soon  forthcoming,  and  as  they 
sipped  it  slowly,  McCarthy  spoke :  "  What  are 
your  conclusions?  I  mean,  what  course  do  you 
intend  to  pursue  with  respect  to  me  ? " 

"  I  think,"  replied  Webb,  with  a  friendly  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  "  that  it  is  I  who  should  ask  that  ques- 
tion." 

"  Well,  sir,  you  have  a  brother  whose  friendship 

I  am  permitted  to  enjoy,  and  you  have  drunk  of 

my  wine.     Under  the  circumstances,  you  will  go 

forth  from  this  house  as  free  as  a  bird  on  the  wing." 

277 


ON   THE   WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

"  I  think  that  will  be  best  for  both  of  us,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Webb.  "  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  resign." 

Captain  McCarthy  held  his  glass  of  wine  be- 
tween his  eyes  and  the  light,  and  watched  the 
bubbles  die  out  on  the  amber-coloured  fluid.  "  Your 
decision  is  a  wise  one,"  he  said,  after  a  while. 
"  The  unquestionable  talent  you  have  displayed  in 
certain  details  of  this  business  in  which  you  are 
engaged,  would  be  of  great  service  to  you  in  the 
management  of  a  railway  line;  and  I  think — I'm 
not  certain,  but  I  think  —  I  have  a  friend  who 
can  give  you  a  good  excuse  for  sending  in  your 
resignation." 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Webb,  "as  my  cab  is  gone, 
you  will  have  to  show  me  the  way  out  of  this 
Brooklyn  jungle." 

"  I  propose  to  go  with  you,"  Captain  McCarthy 
declared.  He  opened  the  door  by  which  he  had 
first  entered  the  room,  and  spoke  to  some  one 
who  was  apparently  waiting  there:  — 

"Terence,  my  lad,  tell  Barney  to  bring  the 
carriage  around.  The  rest  of  you  may  go 
now." 

There  was  a  shuffling  of  feet,  and  then  silence. 
Presently  Terence  reported  that  the  carriage  was 
ready.  Barney  raised  his  hat  as  the  Captain 
saluted  him. 

278 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

"  We  want  to  get  back  as  quickly  as  possible, 
Barney,"  suggested  McCarthy. 

"  I'll  take  ye  by  a  shorter  cut,  sor,  than  Mike 
fetched  the  gentleman,"  replied  Barney,  with  a 
grin. 

Near  Wall  Street  McCarthy  and  Webb  entered 
a  banking  house  which  has  since  made  a  great 
name  in  the  financial  world.  At  that  particular 
time,  the  firm  was  very  much  in  need  of  a  trust- 
worthy man  to  look  after  its  interests  in  the 
management  of  an  important  railway  line.  The 
firm  had  indorsed  the  bonds  of  the  road,  and  there 
was  reason  to  suspect  that  there  had  been  sharp 
practice  on  the  part  of  the  local  managers.  What 
claim  Captain  McCarthy  had  on  these  bankers,  or 
what  connection  he  had  with  them,  was  not  clear 
to  Mr.  Webb,  but  his  influence  with  the  firm  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  he  had  rescued  from  a  South- 
ern prison,  by  perfectly  legitimate  methods,  the 
son  of  one  of  the  members  of  the  firm.  As  the 
result  of  that  piece  of  work,  Mr.  Webb  secured  a 
position  from  which  he  climbed,  step  by  step,  into 
the  management  of  the  road  and  its  later  acquisi- 
tions. 


879 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

IV 

Captain  McCarthy  and  Mr.  Webb  were  en- 
gaged  with  the  bankers  until  the  luncheon  hour, 
and  as  they  drove  up  Broadway  in  the  direction  of 
the  New  York  Hotel,  they  passed  a  truck  which 
was  hauling  a  box  that  appeared  to  contain  an 
upright  piano.  Four  men  stood  in  the  body  of 
the  truck.  They  were  engaged  in  holding  the 
box  in  place.  They  saluted  the  occupants  of  the 
carriage  as  it  passed,  and  were  soon  left  far 
behind. 

•'Some  of  your  men,  I  suppose,"  suggested 
Mr.  Webb. 

"Well,  they  are  often  valuable  as  acquaint- 
ances," replied  Captain  McCarthy. 

In  the  piano  box  Mr.  Doyle  was  confined.  His 
position  was  not  as  uncomfortable  physically  as 
might  be  supposed.  He  sat  in  a  cushioned  chair, 
and  though  his  hands  and  feet  were  tied,  yet  due 
regard  to  his  comfort  had  been  taken,  even  in  this. 
While  this  sort  of  confinement  would  have  been  in- 
tolerable if  it  had  lasted  for  any  considerable  length 
of  time,  Mr.  Doyle  suffered  no  great  inconvenience, 
for  after  being  hustled  about  considerably,  and 
somewhat  shaken  up,  he  found  himself  apparently 
flying  through  the  air  for  a  space,  and  then  the 
box  in  whicli  he  had  his  temporary  habitation  was 

280 


THE   WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

slowly  lowered  until  it  rested  on  he  knew  not 
what. 

But  presently  he  felt  his  small  prison  rocking 
slowly  and  regularly,  and  then  he  heard  the  soft 
lapping  and  splashing  of  water.  Could  the  villains 
have  thrown  him  into  the  river?  No,  for  there 
were  a  number  of  small  holes  and  vents  in  the  box, 
and  through  these  the  water  would  have  trickled. 
After  a  while  he  felt  the  trembling  jar  of 
machinery,  and  then  he  knew  he  was  in  a  boat. 
But  whither  bound  ? 

Meanwhile,  a  great  search  was  going  on  in  all 
parts  of  the  boat  for  a  missing  man.  A  dis- 
tinguished-looking gentleman,  who  seemed  as  if  he 
had  seen  service,  was  hunting  everywhere  for  his 
cousin.  His  restless  movements  and  eager  in- 
quiries showed  that  he  was  in  great  trouble.  The 
Sarah  Bolton,  plying  occasionally  between  New 
York  and  Bermuda,  had  few  passengers  on  her 
outward  trip,  but  to  the  most  of  these,  at  the 
supper  table,  the  distressed  gentleman  confided 
the  information  that  his  cousin  was  one  of  the 
best  men  in  the  world,  and  had  as  sound  a  mind 
as  any  one  except  on  one  particular  subject. 

"He  imagines,"  said   the  gentleman,  "that  he 

is  a  secret  service   agent  for  the  United  States. 

One   day   he    has    captured    several    dangerous 

conspirators,  and  the  next  day  he  has  been,  or  is 

281 


ON  THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

about  to  be  captured.  This  afternoon,  coming 
down  to  the  boat,  he  suggested  that  it  would  be 
an  easy  matter  for  the  rebel  conspirators  to 
capture  a  detective  and  ship  him  off  as  freight  in 
the  hold  of  a  steamer.  He  talked  about  it  after 
we  came  on  board." 

"  As  if  such  a  thing  were  possible  in  this  prosy 
age,"  remarked  a  tall,  romantic-looking  young 
woman,  who  sat  at  the  Captain's  table. 

"Why,  the  more  impossible  it  is,  the  more 
plausible  he  makes  it  appear,  ma'am,"  said  the 
distinguished-looking  gentleman,  with  a  bow.  "If 
you  didn't  know  his  peculiarity,  you'd  be  bound  to 
accept  everything  he  said.  He  makes  his  inci- 
dents and  adventures  fit  together  just  as  they  do 
in  —  well,  in  Sylvanus  Cobb's  stories." 

"Oh,  have  you  read  'The  Gunmaker  of 
Moscow '  ?  I  think  it  is  perfectly  delightful." 

"  The  favourite  author  of  my  unfortunate  cousin, 
ma'am,  is  Emerson  Bennett,"  said  the  gentleman, 
blandly,  whereat  the  genial  captain  came  near 
drowning  himself  in  a  glass  of  water,  as  the  say- 
ing is.  It  was  the  only  way  the  unsympathetic 
man  could  get  rid  of  the  laughter  stored  in  his 
chest. 

"  What  I  am  afraid  of  is  that  the  poor  man 
has  jumped  overboard,"  remarked  the  gentleman. 

"  No,  no !  that  couldn't  be,  you  know.  This 
282 


THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

boat  has  a  watch.  A  cap'n,  a  mate,  a  bos'n,  and  a 
watch.  That's  what  she  has.  I'll  find  your  cousin, 
my  friend.  Don't  give  my  old  lady  a  bad  name 
before  you  come  to  know  her." 

When  the  Captain  arose  from  his  table,  the 
distinguished-looking  gentleman  arose  with  him, 
but  paused  with  his  hand  on  the  back  of  the  chair 
long  enough  to  say  :  — 

"  My  cousin's  name  is  Doyle  —  Philip  Doyle  — 
and  should  any  of  you  find  him  hiding  in  your  state- 
rooms, don't  be  alarmed ;  he  is  as  harmless  as  a 
child.  Simply  send  word  to  the  Captain,  or  the 
first  mate,  and  all  will  be  well." 

"If  I  find  him  in  my  stateroom,"  remarked  a  tall 
young  woman  emphatically,  "I  know  I  shall  faint." 

The  captain  and  the  distinguished-looking  gen- 
tleman left  the  dining  saloon  and  went  to  the 
lower  deck.  In  one  corner  along  with  a  lot  of 
freight  that  had  not  been  placed  in  the  hold  sat 
Mr.  Doyle's  small  prison  house.  Two  or  three  of 
the  crew  were  within  call. 

"  There's  a  stowaway  aboard,"  the  Captain  said. 
"  Take  a  lantern  and  search  the  hold  as  well  as 
you  can." 

When  the  men  had  descended  out  of  sight,  he 
seized  a  hatchet  and  proceeded  to  knock  away  the 
boards  that  formed  the  roof  of  the  box,  remarking 
to  his  companion  :  — 

283 


ON   THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"I  ordered  this  planner  for  the  ladies'  saloon. 
The  old  one  is  laid  up  for  repairs.  You  say  you 
can  play  the  planner,  and  you  ought  to  be  a  good 
judge  of  the  thing.  The  firm  guaranteed  this  one, 
and  if  you  find  a  flaw  in  her,  right  back  she  goes. 
I'll  not  be  swindled  by  chaps  ashore.  I'll  —  why, 
split  my  fo's'l!  what's  this?  Well,  I  am  swindled!" 

"  Why,  he's  tied  and  gagged ! "  exclaimed  the 
distinguished-looking  gentleman.  He  whipped  out 
a  pocket  knife,  and  Doyle  was  soon  released  from 
his  uncomfortable  position. 

"Well!  I've  sailed  the  seas,  high  and  coastwise, 
for  nigh  thirty  year,  but  you're  the  first  passenger 
I  ever  took  on  as  freight.  Wait !  take  your  time 
and  get  your  reckonings.  In  fifteen  minutes  you'll 
be  all  right,  and  then  you  can  give  me  your  name 
and  destination.  No  doubt  your  clearance  papers 
are  all  right." 

But  there  was  no  need  for  Mr.  Doyle  to  wait. 
He  was  sore  and  stiff,  but  otherwise  he  was  as 
sound  as  a  dollar. 

"  Come  right  here  to  the  galley,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain ;  "  you  need  something  to  eat,  and  many's  the 
meal  I've  taken  right  here  when  in  a  hurry,  or 
when  the  wind  was  blowing  hard."  He  gave  some 
sharp  orders  to  the  cook,  and  Mr.  Doyle  was  soon 
enjoying  what  he  regarded  as  the  most  delicious 
meal  he  had  ever  eaten. 

284 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

And  while  he  was  eating,  the  Captain  worked 
the  box  to  the  gangway  opening  and  heaved  it 
overboard,  while  the  distinguished-looking  gentle- 
man went  upon  the  saloon  deck,  and  soon  gave 
out  the  information  that  his  cousin  had  been 
found. 

"  He's  improved  in  some  respects,  but  in  others 
he's  worse.  He  was  in  the  hold,  hiding  from  rebel 
emissaries,  but  he  says  he  was  captured  by  them 
to-day  and  brought  aboard  in  a  box.  He  says 
there  was  a  chair  in  the  box,  and  that  he  would 
have  done  very  well  if  he  hadn't  been  tied  and 
gagged.  He  doesn't  recognise  me  as  his  cousin, 
but  his  manner  is  more  subdued.  His  eyes  have 
lost  their  wild  expression.  The  doctors  said  a 
voyage  to  Bermuda  and  back  would  help  him, 
and  I  hope  he's  made  his  last  exhibition.  It  is 
very  distressing." 

By  this  time  all  the  passengers  had  gathered 
around  the  distinguished-looking  gentleman. 

"  I  was  in  hopes,"  he  went  on,  "  that  there  would 
be  no  need  of  saying  a  word  about  my  cousin's  con- 
dition, but  it  has  been  unavoidable ;  and  I  am  glad 
now  that  it  is  so,  for  I  am  a  very  poor  judge  of 
human  nature  indeed,  if  I  do  not  read  sympathy  in 
your  faces.  Now,  the  only  request  I  have  to  make 
is  that  you  will  treat  my  cousin  as  if  he  were  per- 
fectly sane.  Humour  him  by  expressing  surprise  or 
285 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

indignation  when  he  refers  to  his  imaginary  trou- 
bles. This  is  the  doctor's  advice." 

The  voice  of  the  distinguished-looking  gentle- 
man was  charged  with  a  persuasive  tenderness  that 
brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  tall,  romantic-look- 
ing young  woman,  and  stirred  the  emotions  of  all 
who  heard  him.  His  grey  hair,  combed  away  from 
his  forehead,  and  his  strong  features  gave  great 
impressiveness  to  his  words.  As  by  a  common 
impulse  the  passengers  came  forward  and  pressed 
his  hand,  one  by  one. 

"I  beg  to  differ  with  Shakespeare  in  one  re- 
spect," said  the  romantic-looking  young  woman, 
as  she  pressed  the  gentleman's  fingers;  "it  is 
not  the  touch  of  Nature,  but  the  hand  of  trouble, 
that  makes  the  whole  world  kin." 

"  I  thank  you  all  for  your  sympathy,"  the  gen- 
tleman exclaimed  in  husky  tones.  Then  he  raised 
his  hand  and  listened.  "  They  are  coming.  And 
now,"  he  said,  "  let  us  break  the  monotony  of  the 
voyage  with  a  little  whist,  or,  if  not  whist,  any 
game  that  will  give  an  air  of  sociability  to  the 
company." 

The  Captain  was  talking  to  Doyle,  and  evidently 
trying  to  soothe  him.  "  Don't  you  worry  about  it. 
I'm  my  own  purser,  and  you  can  just  consider  your 
passage  paid.  Your  yarn  is  all  right  all  the  way 
through.  A  man  that's  been  through  what  you 

286 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

have,  can  ship  with  me  any  day.  You're  on  the 
Sarah  Bolton,  and  Esseck  Bolton  is  her  captain; 
that's  me,  and  I'm  glad  to  have  you.  You'll  have 
as  good  a  stateroom  as  there  is  or.,  the  vessel,  and 
I'll  take  you  back  to  New  York.  So  don't  worry. 
You'll  find  your  fellow-passengers  clever  people; 
I  didn't  pick  'em  out  for  their  cleverness,  but  the 
Sarah  Bolton  has  never  had  the  bad  luck  to  carry 
an  ugly  passenger.  Now,  just  make  yourself  at 
home.  You  say  you  have  no  luggage;  well,  Mr. 
Webb,  there,  will  accommodate  you  with  a  change 
of  linen  until  you  have  a  chance  to  go  ashore." 

"  Webb  ?  did  you  say  Webb  ? "  said  Mr.  Doyle ; 
"  why,  that  is  the  name  of  a  very  good  friend  of 
mine." 

"That  is  what  the  Captain  calls  me,"  remarked 
the  distinguished-looking  gentleman  with  a  grave 
bow. 

"  My  name  is  Doyle,"  said  the  other,  "  though  it 
is  a  wonder  I  haven't  forgotten  it,  such  a  time  I 
have  had." 

Now,  Doyle  was  just  as  sane  as  any  man  on  the 
boat,  —  in  fact,  he  was  a  man  far  above  the  average 
in  intelligence,  —  but  such  is  the  force  and  effect 
of  prejudgment  that  everything  he  said  and  did 
confirmed  the  idea  of  his  fellow-passengers  that 
his  mind  was  unbalanced.  Their  minds  had  been 
prejudiced  in  advance;  they  sought  for  evidences 

287 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

of  monomania,  and  they  found  them  in  abundance, 
especially  when  the  gentleman  who  had  been  called 
Webb  cunningly  drew  from  Doyle  the  story  of 
his  day's  adventure,  and  humoured  him  into  an 
unconscious  exaggeration  of  the  details.  He  nar- 
rated his  adventure  with  such  vividness  and  invested 
the  events  with  such  reality,  as  it  seemed  to  his 
hearers,  that  more  than  one  shook  their  heads 
when  out  of  Doyle's  sight  and  hearing,  and  re- 
marked that  it  was  a  pity  that  a  mind  so  vigorous 
and  an  imagination  so  powerful  should  be  the  prey 
of  a  mania,  however  harmless  it  might  be  to  others. 

Indeed,  the  romantic  young  woman  —  Miss  Hen- 
rietta Estes  was  her  name  —  took  the  main  inci- 
dents of  Mr.  Doyle's  narrative  and  wove  them  into 
a  love  story.  Its  title  was  "  The  Mysterious  Voy- 
age," by  Katharine  Merry.  The  curious  will  find 
it  in  The  Seafoam  Library  series.  These  facts  are 
mentioned  here  to  provide  against  any  possible 
charge  of  plagiarism  that  may  be  aimed  at  the 
present  writer  by  those  who  have  preserved  copies 
of  the  pleasing  and  popular  works  included  in  the 
Seafoam  series. 

By  the  time  the  Sarah  Bolton  reached  Bermuda, 
Mr.  Doyle  had  conceived  quite  a  friendship  for  the 
gentleman  who  called  himself  Webb.  There  was 
a  reserve  of  strength,  an  undercurrent  of  courage 
and  hope,  in  his  conversation,  and  something  so 

288 


THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

restful,  refreshing,  and  pleasing  in  his  countenance, 
gestures,  and  attitude,  that  Mr.  Doyle  was  irresisti- 
bly attracted  toward  him.  There  seemed  to  be 
something  more  important  than  courtesy  behind 
his  affability,  and  the  modulations  of  his  voice 
appeared  to  speak  for  a  mind  full  of  tenderness 
and  toleration  toward  all  humanity. 

One  morning,  as  the  two  sat  under  an  awning 
on  the  upper  deck,  Doyle's  companion  waved  his 
hand  toward  the  horizon.  "To  the  left  of  the 
flagstaff  there  you  may  see  the  northern  portion 
of  the  Bermudas." 

"I  see  nothing  that  looks  like  land,"  replied 
Doyle. 

"  Perhaps  not.  But  if  you  were  to  follow  the 
sea  for  a  few  years,  the  land  line  would  be  plain 
to  you.  Look  along  the  line  of  the  horizon ;  can't 
you  see  a  vague,  misty  marking  of  fog-colour  —  a 
thin  streak  ? " 

"  I  suppose  I  could  bring  myself  to  imagine  I 
saw  it,"  responded  Doyle,  laughing. 

"  Well,  it  will  be  plain  to  you  in  half  an  hour." 

"I  suppose,  then,  I  shall  see  the  last  of  you 
to-day,  and  I  am  really  sorry,"  remarked  Doyle. 

"  Sorry ! "  exclaimed  his  companion.  He  clasped 
his  hands  behind  his  head,  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
and  regarded  Doyle  with  a  fixed  and  searching 

gaze. 

289 


ON   THE   WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

"  Yes,  truly  sorry,"  replied  Doyle.  "  I  don't 
know  whether  you  have  noticed  it  or  not,  but  all 
the  passengers  on  this  boat  regard  me  with  an  air 
of  suspicion;  anyhow,  I  have  been  thrown  back 
upon  you  for  companionship,  and  your  conversa- 
tion has  been  of  great  help  to  me.  I  have  made 
many  serious  mistakes,  and  somehow  you  have 
held  them  up  before  me.  Of  course  you  didn't 
intend  it.  My  mother  was  a  deeply  religious 
woman,  but  I  had  forgotten  all  about  her  teach- 
ings until  I  came  to  associate  with  you." 

"  Come,  now !  I  hope  I  haven't  been  preach- 
ing to  you,"  cried  his  companion,  shaking  with 
laughter. 

"  No,  oh,  no ! "  protested  Doyle.  "  That  is  the 
beauty  of  it ;  you  haven't  said  a  word  that  even  a 
mocker  could  twist  into  cant.  But  somehow  "  — 
he  paused  as  if  feeling  for  a  word  —  "  well,  I  can't 
explain  it.  But  I  have  been  hopelessly  wrong  in 
my  methods,  and  I  am  in  the  wrong  business." 

"Well,  that  is  a  good  beginning,"  remarked  his 
companion,  with  a  cheerful  smile.  "  Caution  takes 
command  when  we  begin  to  distrust  ourselves.  It 
is  then  that  discretion  finds  an  opening,  and  discre- 
tion is  closely  related  to  virtue.  It  is  a  quality  you 
can't  twist  or  change.  A  thief  may  be  cautious, 
but  he  never  can  be  discreet.  The  old  saying, 
'  Discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valour,'  has  a  very 

290 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

vivid  meaning  when  it  is  taken  literally.     Your 
really  valorous  man  is  always  discreet." 

"  Well,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  retire  from 
the  detective  business,"  said  Doyle,  with  a  sigh. 
"  My  unknown  friend,  McCarthy,  has  taught  me 
a  lesson.  I  am  going  back  to  New  York  and  will 
try  to  serve  my  country  in  some  capacity  where  I 
can  be  more  useful.  No  more  secret  service  for 
me." 

"  Yet  I  judge  from  all  you  have  said,  that  you 
have  information  which  would  lead  to  the  undoing 
of  this  McCarthy." 

"Well,  he'll  never  be  bothered  by  me  or  my 
information,"  exclaimed  Doyle,  emphatically. 

"  Now  that  statement  needs  explanation,"  said 
the  other,  leaning  forward  with  an  appearance  of 
interest. 

"Why,  don't  you  see  that  the  man  has  been 
uncommonly  kind  to  me  ?  It  was  a  contest  as  to 
which  should  hang  the  other.  If  we  had  captured 
him,  he  would  have  been  hanged  without  a  doubt. 
Now,  he  did  capture  me,  and  instead  of  dropping 
me  into  the  bay  or  transporting  me  back  to  Rich- 
mond, he  has  taken  this  course.  I  am  truly  grate- 
ful to  the  man,  and  I  intend  to  tell  him  so  when  I 
get  back  to  New  York." 

"Perhaps  your  gratitude  is  premature,"  remarked 
the  other,  dryly. 

291 


ON   THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

'*  How  can  that  be  ? "  inquired  Doyle.  "  He 
had  me  completely  in  his  power,  and  here  I  am." 

"  That  is  true ;  here  you  are."  This  gentleman, 
whom  the  Captain  had  called  Webb,  regarded 
Doyle  with  a  curious  stare,  as  if  he  were  studying 
a  new  problem. 

"  Yes,  and  life  takes  on  a  new  kind  of  tone  when 
a  fellow  goes  through  such  an  experience  as  mine. 
It  gives  a  man  something  to  think  about.  Any- 
how, it  has  given  me  some  new  views."  He  paused 
and  looked  out  over  the  slowly  heaving  sea.  "  Do 
you  know  McCarthy  ? "  he  asked  after  a  while. 

"  Well,  I  have  never  actually  seen  the  man  face 
to  face,  but  I  know  of  him.  He  has  a  little  girl  of 
whom  I  am  very  fond.  She  is  just  jumping  into 
her  teens,  using  the  years  as  a  skipping  rope. 
She  is  a  very  charming  child." 

"And  just  think,"  exclaimed  Doyle,  bringing 
his  fist  down  on  his  knee ;  "  if  my  plan  had  car- 
ried, that  child  would  have  been  an  orphan !  " 

"An  orphan  indeed,"  said  his  companion, 
gravely.  "  Her  mother  is  dead."  Doyle  jumped 
from  his  chair,  and  walked  up  and  down  excitedly. 
"  Tut,  man !  "  remarked  his  companion,  "  order  a 
brandy-and-soda ;  your  experience  has  unnerved 
you." 

"  You  were  never  more  mistaken  in  your  life," 
exclaimed  the  other.  "  I  am  stronger  now  than 

292 


THE   WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

I  ever  was ;  I  know  what  I'm  about.  I  tell  you, 
when  you  have  been  tied  and  gagged,  and  placed 
in  a  box  and  left  in  the  dark  in  more  than  one 
sense,  not  knowing  what  moment  you  are  to  lose 
your  life,  you  have  time  to  do  a  lot  of  hard  think- 
ing. Now,  I  must  have  been  in  that  box  about 
eight  hours,  and  I  saw  then,  as  I  never  could  have 
seen  but  for  that  experience,  how  I  had  been  at 
outs  with  the  plainest  suggestions  of  duty.  I  tell 
you,  I  seemed  to  be  at  a  theatre  where  I  was  watch- 
ing myself  perform  as  a  kind  of  comical  heavy 
villain,  if  there  is  such  a  thing." 

The  two  men  watched  the  island  slowly  rise  out 
of  the  sea  until  it  presented  a  picture  fair  to  the 
eye.  They  were  silent  for  some  time.  Presently 
Doyle's  companion  spoke  :  — 

"  And  so  you've  made  up  your  mind  to  seek  out 
this  Mr.  McCarthy,  and  present  him  your  compli- 
ments?" 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  replied  Doyle,  emphatically.  "  I 
know  he'll  think  I'm  a  fool,  and  he'll  not  believe 
me." 

"  Now  don't  prejudge  the  man,"  the  other  pro- 
tested. 

"  If  I  could  explain  my  feelings  to  him  as  freely 
as  I  can  to  you,  and  be  as  sure  of  his  apprecia- 
tion and  sympathy  as  I  am  of  yours,  it  would  be 
different." 

293 


ON   THE   WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

"  But  are  you  sure  of  mine  ?  " 

"Why,  certainly!"  exclaimed  Doyle.  "That 
is  why  I  regret  to  bid  you  good-by." 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  transact  my  busi- 
ness in  time  to  return  with  the  boat.  Indeed,  I 
think  it  is  more  than  probable.  Will  you  go  ashore 
with  me  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  Doyle.  "  I'll  hang  around  the 
boat,  and  watch  and  hope  for  your  return." 

"  Well,  in  any  event,  I  shall  return  to  bid  you 
good-by,"  said  the  other. 

When  the  boat  had  been  made  fast  to  the 
landing,  the  passengers  hurried  ashore.  Doyle 
observed  that  every  one  of  them  seized  an 
opportunity  to  shake  hands  with  the  man  to 
whom  he  had  talked  so  fully.  And  he  wondered 
why. 

The  wharf  at  which  the  Sarah  Bolton  lay  soon 
became  the  centre  of  great  activity.  As  fast  as 
the  freight  was  unloaded  and  carried  away,  fresh 
freight  arrived,  and  it  continued  to  accumulate  at 
a  great  rate.  It  was  a  curious  conglomeration, 
representing  hundreds  of  the  manifold  forms  of 
appetite  and  desire.  But  Doyle  noted  that  there 
was  one  class  of  freight  which  occupied  a  section 
of  the  wharf  all  by  itself.  It  was  composed  of 
boxes  or  cases,  long  and  stout,  and  seemed  to  call 
for  careful  handling,  partly  on  account  of  its 

294 


THE   WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

weight,  and  partly  on  account  of  its  quality,  for, 
though  it  seemed  to  be  heavy,  in  comparison  with 
the  size  of  the  cases,  it  was  cautiously  lowered  to 
the  floor  of  the  wharf.  Doyle  concluded  that  these 
boxes  contained  arms  and  ammunition,  and  he 
judged  that  they  had  been  purchased  by  the  Gov- 
ernment to  arm  new  troops  called  out  by  Mr. 
Lincoln;  but  he  had  never  heard  that  Bermuda 
manufactured  munitions  of  war.  Somehow  the 
matter  gave  rise  to  a  wonder  which  was  so  mild 
that  it  was  soon  forgotten  in  the  contemplation  of 
his  own  position  and  purposes. 


Dinner  time  came,  and  then  supper;  but  the 
stevedores  on  the  wharf  continued  to  convey 
freight  into  the  boat  until  long  after  dark,  and 
they  were  at  it  when  Doyle  fell  asleep.  When 
he  awoke  the  next  morning  the  boat  was  in  mo- 
tion, and  the  idea  that  he  was  on  his  way  back  to 
New  York  gave  him  a  feeling  of  tranquillity  to 
which  he  had  been  a  stranger  for  many  long 
hours. 

Then  he  suddenly  remembered   that   his   new 

friend  had  not  returned  to  tell  him  good-by,  and 

as  the  thought  occurred  to  him,  the  door  of  his 

stateroom  opened,  and  the  man  he  was  thinking 

295 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

about  put  his  head  in  and  gave  him  a  cheerful 
good  morning. 

"  I  was  just  thinking  about  you,"  said  Doyle, 
"and  I'm  glad  it's  good  morning,  and  not  good-by." 

"Why,  so  am  I,"  responded  the  other.  "I 
looked  in  to  see  if  you  were  still  with  us,  and  to 
say  that  I'll  be  very  busy  on  the  return  trip,  but 
to-morrow  afternoon  I  want  to  have  some  conver- 
sation with  you."  With  that  he  took  his  leave. 

A  little  later  Doyle,  in  strolling  about  the  saloon 
deck,  saw  his  friend  in  close  consultation  with  the 
Captain.  The  two  were  sitting  at  a  small  table  in 
the  Captain's  cabin,  and  it  could  be  seen  at  a  glance 
that  a  noticeable  change  had  come  over  the  two 
men.  On  the  table  before  them  there  lay  a  map, 
or  diagram  of  some  description.  The  Captain  of 
the  vessel  no  longer  had  an  air  of  authority ;  he 
was  deference  itself;  whereas  the  man  who  had 
drawn  Mr.  Doyle  to  him  seemed  to  be  in  com- 
mand. He  opened  the  door  connecting  the  cabin 
with  the  pilot-house. 

"  What  is  the  course  ? "  he  asked.  Doyle  could 
not  hear  the  reply  of  the  man  at  the  wheel,  but 
he  heard  the  command,  "  Bear  to  the  south  —  two 
points." 

At  Doyle's  feet  the  shadows  slowly  shifted,  and 
then  hung  steady,  and  a  moment's  observation 
showed  him  that  the  boat  was  headed  in  a  south- 
296 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

westerly  direction.  This  gave  him  a  cud  to  chew 
on.  The  boat  was  certainly  not  headed  in  the 
direction  of  New  York.  However,  he  resolved 
not  to  allow  himself  to  be  concerned  with  a  fact 
which  might  turn  out  to  have  the  simplest  explana- 
tion in  the  world. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  Doyle,  when  he  had  fin- 
ished his  dinner,  noticed  that  the  sun  was  beginning 
to  cast  shadows  that  fell  from  left  to  right.  This 
meant,  therefore,  that  the  course  of  the  boat  had 
been  changed  to  a  point  a  little  west  of  north. 
Well,  he  knew  nothing  about  navigation,  and  he 
did  not  permit  his  curiosity  to  reach  the  pitch  of 
inquisitiveness.  Yet  he  had  nothing  to  do  but 
ruminate  over  such  trifles,  for  with  the  exception 
of  the  man  to  whom  he  had  so  suddenly  become 
attached,  he  was  the  only  passenger  on  the  boat. 
He  leaned  back  in  one  of  the  easy  chairs  in  the 
saloon,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep.  When  he 
awoke  the  sun  hung  low  and  red  on  the  horizon, 
and  the  boat  seemed  to  be  headed  right  for  the 
glowing  orb.  On  a  chair  not  far  away  sat  his 
travelling  companion,  apparently  lost  in  thought. 
He  roused  himself  and  spoke  when  Doyle  stirred. 

"  Ah,  you  have  had  a  most  refreshing  nap,"  he 
said,  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Doyle.  "They  say  it's 
a  sign  of  health  for  a  man  to  fall  asleep  when  he's 

29? 


ON   THE  WING   OF  OCCASIONS 

not  sleepy.  I've  been  awake  several  moments 
watching  your  face.  I  was  trying  to  find  out 
why  it  is  that  I  can't  call  you  by  your  name  ?  I 
hope  you  will  take  no  offence." 

"Why,  certainly  not,"  said  the  other.  "The 
reason  you  don't  call  me  by  my  name  is  because 
you  don't  know  it." 

"Well,  didn't  the  Captain  say  your  name  was 
Webb  ? "  Doyle  asked. 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think  he  did,"  remarked  the 
other.  "But  no  doubt  that  was  due  to  the  fact 
that  in  the  excitement  created  in  his  mind  by  your 
astonishing  narrative  he  made  a  slip  of  the  tongue." 

"Anyhow,  I'm  glad  Webb  is  not  your  name, 
though  I  don't  know  why.  It  doesn't  seem  to  fit 
you." 

"When  the  proper  moment  arrives,  I'll  intro- 
duce myself  with  a  flourish.  Just  at  present,  how- 
ever, we  must  talk  of  more  important  matters. 
We  are  now  heading  for  sunset.  Have  you  any 
idea  of  our  destination,  or  of  yours  ? "  Doyle 
shook  his  head.  "Well,  that  is  an  additional 
reason  why  the  secret  service  should  have  small 
charms  for  you.  Perhaps  you  could  make  a 
shrewd  guess." 

Like  a  flash  the  truth  dawned  on  Doyle.  "  We 
are  on  a  blockade  runner !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  You  have  hit  it  the  first  time.  And  now,  hav* 
398 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

ing  the  key  to  the  situation,  the  whole  scheme  of 
Captain  McCarthy  with  respect  to  you  must  be 
clear  to  your  mind." 

"  It  is  perfectly  clear,"  replied  Doyle.  "  He  is 
for  sending  me  back  to  Richmond,  where  a  halter 
probably  awaits  me.  Well,  all  is  fair  in  love  and 
war,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  I  thought  it  very 
queer  that  the  man  who  planned  my  departure 
with  such  shrewd  simplicity  should  give  me  an 
opportunity  to  place  my  information  in  the  hands 
of  others.  And  you  are  Captain  McCarthy's 
agent  ? " 

"  No,  not  his  agent ;  and  yet  I  am  acting  for 
him.  Your  case  is  in  my  hands  absolutely,  and  I 
propose,  if  I  can,  to  transfer  it  to  yours.  This 
Captain  McCarthy,  I  am  told,  has  never  yet  sent 
a  man  to  the  gallows.  He  is  said  to  believe  that 
the  service  in  which  he  is  engaged  does  not  call 
for  the  shedding  of  blood  or  the  taking  of  life, 
save  in  an  extreme  emergency.  Trusting  to  that, 
I  shall  permit  you  to  dispose  of  your  own  case." 

"  You  are  a  rebel  —  excuse  me  —  a  Confederate 
sympathiser?"  suggested  Doyle. 

"  Don't  halt  at  words,"  replied  the  other.  "  So 
many  good  causes  have  been  branded  as  rebellions, 
and  so  many  great  men  have  been  called  rebels, 
that  I  rather  enjoy  the  name.  There  is  a  whiff  of 
liberty  and  independence  about  it.  Yes,  I  am  a 
299 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

rebel,  and  I  am  in  the  service  of  rebel  author- 
ities." 

"What  alternative  do  you  suggest?"  inquired 
Doyle. 

"There  are  at  least  two.  To-night,  or  early 
to-morrow  morning,  when  we  make  our  run  past 
the  war-vessels,  I  can  provide  you  with  a  boat, 
and  you  will  have  no  difficulty  in  reaching  one  of 
the  three.  On  the  other  hand,  you  were  saying 
the  other  day  that  you  contemplated  a  change; 
you  suggested  that  your  present  business  had 
grown  irksome;  and  you  were  generous  enough 
to  express  a  feeling  of  gratification  that  the  man 
you  had  selected  for  a  victim  had  apparently 
restrained  his  hand  with  respect  to  you." 

"  But  that  was  when  I  had  deluded  myself  into 
the  belief  that  he  had  shortened  his  arm  in  my 
favour.  As  you  have  just  told  me,  he  has  a  longer 
reach  than  I  supposed." 

"Precisely.  But  while  I  have  never  met  the 
man  face  to  face,  I  am  familiar  with  those  who 
know  his  nature ;  and  I  can  say  to  vou  in  all  sin- 
cerity that  he  has  no  real  desire  to  sacrifice  you 
on  the  point  of  your  mistakes." 

"  But  he  would  only  be  carrying  out  his  duty," 
remarked  Doyle. 

"  One  form  of  it,  certainly,"  responded  the  other. 
"There  is  th^  case  of  Mr.  Webb,  who  joined  you 

300 


THE  WHIMS   OF  CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

in  the  enterprise.     He  is  as  free  to-day  as  I  am. 
He  is  on  parole." 

"That  is  queer,"  said  Doyle.  "Why  is  it  that 
Captain  McCarthy  doesn't  deal  impartially  ? " 

"  The  truth  is,"  the  other  answered,  "  this  man 
McCarthy  is  a  great  booby.  I  tell  you  confiden- 
tially. In  one  aspect  of  his  nature  he  is  a  perfect 
child.  In  another  aspect  he  is  somewhat  grim  — 
so  his  friends  say.  He  is  something  of  a  casuist, 
too,  and  he  is  never  happier  than  when  engaged 
in  applying  general  moral  principles  to  particular 
cases.  Yours,  for  instance,  probably  violated  one 
of  his  pet  theories.  You  were  receiving  a  salary 
from  the  Confederate  authorities  and  betraying  its 
secrets  to  its  enemies ;  you  suggested  the  kidnap- 
ping of  Mr.  Lincoln  to  an  enthusiastic  young  man, 
and  tried  to  destroy  him;  and,  finally,  you  took 
advantage  of  your  position  to  get  some  document- 
ary information  in  regard  to  McCarthy's  plans  and 
purposes.  I  have  the  papers  here." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  frankly,"  responded  Doyle, 
"that  young  fellow  Bethune  treated  me  very  hand- 
somely in  Washington,  and  he  took  such  high 
ground  in  the  matter  that  he  set  me  to  thinking. 
And  then,  as  I  told  you,  my  experience  in  that  box 
gave  me  an  opportunity  to  think.  My  desire  for 
advancement,  it  seemed,  had  blotted  out  the  — 
well,  the  amenities  —  " 

301 


ON   THE  WING   OF   OCCASIONS 

"  Oh,  call  them  principles  —  the  word  will  not 
suffocate  you !  "  cried  the  other,  with  some  show 
of  impatience. 

"  Yes,  the  principles  that  should  mark  out  one's 
line  of  action,"  assented  Doyle. 

"And  yet,  you  have  this  excuse  —  that  in  the 
business  in  which  you  were  engaged,  there  is  no 
clear  boundary  line  between  what  is  fair,  and  right, 
and  proper,  unless  one  is  at  some  pains  to  sift  each 
proposition  as  it  arises.  It  is  quite  a  problem." 

"  Well,"  said  Doyle,  "  I  had  made  up  my  mind, 
before  I  discovered  your  mission,  to  try  some  other 
line  of  work.  But  under  the  circumstances,  I'll 
say  nothing  more  on  that  subject.  You  have  your 
duty  to  perform.  I  hope  you  find  it  a  little  more 
disagreeable  than  you  thought,  for  I  have  come  to 
like  you." 

"  I  doubt  if  an  executioner  ever  had  so  fine  a 
compliment,"  remarked  the  other,  with  a  friendly 
smile  and  gesture. 

The  two  men  sat  and  talked  together  on  various 
topics  for  some  time.  Though  it  was  now  dark, 
no  lamps  had  been  lit.  The  mate  came  into  the 
saloon  with  a  lantern  and  announced  that  supper 
was  ready ;  and  he  led  the  way  to  the  galley. 

"  We  shall  have  to  make  it  a  trifle  uncomforta- 
ble for  you,"  said  Doyle's  companion.  "  We  shall 
not  be  within  sight  of  the  Carolina  coast  until  after 
302 


THE  WHIMS  OF  CAPTAIN  MCCARTHY 

midnight,  yet  we  cannot  afford  to  illuminate  the 
vessel." 

"  Don't  talk  about  comfort,"  replied  Doyle.  "  In 
the  course  of  a  very  few  hours,  if  matters  go  well 
with  you,  I  shall  remember  the  galley  here  as  the 
centre  of  luxury  and  comfort.  If  you  please,  I'll 
take  my  coffee  in  a  tin  cup." 

"  Why,  then,  so  will  I,"  said  the  other,  with  a 
smile.  "  Who  knows  what  may  happen  ?  The 
trip  is  an  experiment.  The  Captain  has  run  into 
Charleston  and  into  Norfolk,  but,  at  my  request, 
he  is  to  try  Wilmington.  I  am  familiar  with  the 
channel  there,  which  has  its  peculiarities,  and  I 
am  of  the  opinion  that  your  friends  on  the  Federal 
warships  are  not  prepared  for  an  invasion  of  this 
sort,  although  more  than  one  vessel  has  slipped 
in  and  out.  In  the  Captain's  cabin  you  will  find 
light  enough  to  read  by,  and  you  are  welcome  to 
use  it." 

When  Doyle  had  groped  his  way  to  the  upper 
deck  he  found  a  change  in  the  atmospheric  condi- 
tions. A  raw  wind  was  blowing  from  the  north- 
west, bringing  with  it  a  stinging  rain.  He  went 
into  the  Captain's  cabin,  and  tried  hard  to  amuse 
himself  with  the  handful  of  books  he  found  there. 
Among  these  were  "  Pelayo,"  by  William  Gilmore 
Simms,  in  two  volumes ;  Poems  by  James  Brooks 
and  his  brother,  and  "The  Green  Mantle  of 
303 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

Venice."  This  last  he  had  never  seen  beforev 
and  he  began  to  read  the  gruesome  thing.  The 
story  that  gave  the  title  to  the  book  was  the  first 
and  the  longest,  and  when  he  had  come  to  the  end 
of  it,  he  shivered  and  closed  the  volume.  He  had 
never  read  anything  so  grim  and  ghastly.  His 
feelings  called  loudly  for  companionship,  and  he 
sought  it  in  the  pilot-house. 

"  We  are  passing  Smith's  Island,"  said  a  voice, 
which  Doyle  recognised  as  that  of  the  gentleman 
who  was  playing  such  an  important  part  in  his 
career.  The  voice  came  from  outside  the  pilot- 
house. They  had  passed  two  of  the  blockading 
vessels. 

"  A  rocket's  gone  up  behind  us,"  cried  the  Cap- 
tain from  the  bridge. 

A  moment  later  another  rocket  went  up  far 
ahead  and  to  the  right 

In  half  an  hour  the  man  at  the  wheel  was  told 
to  signal  for  full  speed,  and  the  Sarah  Bolton, 
which  had  now  become  The  Morning  Star,  ran  by 
the  grim  sentinel  which  was  lying  near  the  entrance 
of  the  Northern  Channel. 

In  no  long  time,  and  without  further  incident, 
The  Morning  Star  reached  Wilmington.  Doyle, 
determined  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  situation, 
went  to  bed  and  dreamed  of  "  The  Green  Mantle 
of  Venice."  When  he  awoke  it  was  daylight, 

3=4 


THE  WHIMS   OF   CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

but  he  made  no  movement  to  arise.  He  was  sur- 
prised to  find  how  calmly  a  man  can  face  the 
worst  when  he  knows  that  it  is  inevitable.  He 
tried  to  account  for  this,  and  so  fell  asleep  again, 
and  the  sun  was  high  when  he  awoke  from  his 
morning  nap.  He  heard  a  voice  calling  from 
the  wharf :  — 

"  Hey,  there !     Is  Captain  McCarthy  aboard  ? " 

Captain  McCarthy!  Doyle  did  not  hear  the 
reply.  He  did  not  listen.  He  had  indulged  in  a 
hope  that  his  friend,  his  companion  on  the  voyage, 
would,  at  the  last  moment,  employ  some  influence 
powerful  enough  to  save  him  from  the  gallows. 
He  had  supposed  that  this  hope  was  only  a  faint 
one  ;  but  now  he  knew  how  strong  it  had  been. 
For  an  instant  his  courage  died  away  completely. 
He  held  up  his  hand  and  it  was  shaking ;  his  lips 
were  dry.  He  made  no  effort  to  rise  from  his 
bunk. 

He  heard  the  voices  of  men,  as  they  approached 
the  shaded  portion  of  the  deck,  which  was  right  at 
his  stateroom  window.  Whoever  the  men  might 
be,  they  placed  their  chairs  so  that  he  could  hear 
every  word  they  said,  and  he  lay  with  his  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head,  listening  to  the  most 
interesting  conversation  that  had  ever  reached  his 
ears. 

"  I  heard  you  were  on  the  boat  and  I  hurried 
3°5 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

down  to  give  you  a  piece  of  information  that  may 
be  worth  something  to  you.  We  had  a  man  in  one 
of  the  departments  named  Phil  Doyle.  He  had 
the  run  of  the  whole  business,  and  everybody 
thought  he  was  all  right;  why,  he  was  a  ranker 
secesh  in  his  talk  than  Bob  Toombs.  But  he  was 
a  spy ;  yes,  sir,  a  Yankee  spy,  and  now  he's  gone ! 
Disappeared  just  as  though  the  ground  had  opened 
and  swallowed  him ;  and  he  carried  away  with  him 
some  of  the  most  valuable  papers  from  the  secret 
archives  of  the  Government.  Yes,  sir!  The 
matter's  been  hushed  up  so  the  general  public 
won't  get  hold  of  it ;  but  you'd  better  believe  the 
Government  is  stirred  up  over  it.  That's  why  I'm 
here  now.  Some  one  has  been  sent  to  every  sea- 
port town  in  the  South.  They  believe  in  Rich- 
mond that  he'll  go  to  one  of  these  towns  and  hire 
a  couple  of  negroes  to  row  him  out  to  one  of 
the  Yankee  ships. 

"  You  may  laugh,"  continued  the  speaker,  though 
Doyle  had  heard  no  sound  of  laughter,  "  but  if 
you  don't  keep  both  eyes  open  Phil  Doyle  will  put 
a  big  finger  in  your  pie."  Evidently  the  silent 
person  had  made  some  gesture  expressive  of  doubt 
or  disdain,  for  the  man  who  was  doing  all  the 
talking  raised  his  voice  and  spoke  with  more  ear- 
nestness. "  Oh,  I  know  you're  a  good  one,  Cap- 
tain, —  we  all  know  that,  —  but  Doyle's  a  mighty 

306 


slick  duck.  What  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that 
among  the  papers  he  carted  off  (he  must  have 
taken  a  bushel  from  the  fuss  they've  been  making) 
he  had  all  the  records  relating  to  your  work,  an 
outline  of  your  general  plan,  and  a  list  of  the 
names  of  the  men  who  are  working  under  you  ? 

"Well,  you  may  shake  your  head  as  hard  as 
you  please,  Captain  McCarthy,  but  Phil  Doyle  has 
the  record,  and  he's  liable  to  make  the. Yankee 
climate  mighty  hot  for  you  if  you  don't  mind  your 
eye.  You  don't  seem  to  believe  it,"  said  the 
speaker,  with  a  touch  of  distress  in  his  voice,  "  but 
I  tell  you  it's  so." 

"And  I  tell  you,"  answered  Captain  McCarthy, 
speaking  for  the  first  time,  "  that  you  people  in 
Richmond  are  labouring  under  a  serious  misappre- 
hension." 

The  sound  of  Captain  McCarthy's  voice  gave 
Doyle  a  shock  of  surprise  that  caused  his  heart  to 
jump  in  his  throat.  The  firm,  level  tones,  the 
clear  enunciation,  and  the  mild,  mellowing  touch 
of  Irish  accent  were  perfectly  familiar.  He  had 
heard  that  voice  every  day  during  his  involuntary 
voyage.  Captain  McCarthy  had  been  his  travel- 
ling companion. 

"  Misapprehension,  Captain  ? "  cried  the  other 
in  astonishment ;  "  why,  what  can  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  with  respect  to  Mr.  Doyle.  I  am  toler- 
307 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

ably  well  acquainted  with  that  gentleman,  and  1 
am  convinced  he  took  no  papers  beyond  the 
records  referring  to  my  work  and  plans.  And  in 
doing  that,  he  did  me  a  real  gervice." 

"  A  service  ?  "  cried  the  other. 

"  A  real  service,"  persisted  Captain  McCarthy. 
"  He  opened  my  eyes  to  the  loose  methods  that 
are  prevalent  in  the  departments  at  Richmond.  If 
those  records  and  documents  had  fallen  into  other 
hands,  I  would  not  be  here  to-day." 

In  that  statement  Doyle  thought  he  found  a 
grim  satire  on  his  own  bungling,  and  he  smiled 
over  it 

"  But  he  has  the  papers  all  the  same,"  said  the 
other,  almost  triumphantly,  "  and  he's  sure  to  use 
them  against  you." 

"On  the  contrary,"  remarked  Captain  Mc- 
Carthy, "I  have  the  papers  in  my  own  posses- 
sion." 

"Captain  McCarthy,"  said  the  other,  —  he  evi- 
dently arose  from  his  chair,  —  "  allow  me  to  take 
off  my  hat  to  you." 

"  No  flourishes,  my  friend.  Here  are  the  docu- 
ments; take  them  in  your  hands  and  examine 
them,  and  when  you  return  to  Richmond,  reassure 
my  friends  by  the  account  you  will  give.  No,  I'll 
not  return  the  papers.  But  for  Mr.  Doyle,  they 
would  still  be  exposed  in  the  departments;  in 

308 


THE  WHIMS   OF   CAPTAIN   MCCARTHY 

fetching  them  away  he  has  done  me  a  signal  ser« 
vice.  And  there's  another  matter  —  if  Mr.  Doyle 
has  carried  away  any  documents  besides  these, 
they  will  be  duly  returned  by  a  trustworthy  mes- 
senger." 

"  Then  all  this  fuss  is  about  nothing  ? " 

"No,  it  is  about  something.  Mr.  Doyle  no 
doubt  learned  some  facts  from  the  inside  that 
make  it  desirable  for  a  few  individuals  to  close  his 
mouth.  At  least  two  of  these  persons  are  not 
friendly  to  me.  Now  when  you  return,  my 
friend,  publish  it  throughout  the  departments  that 
McCarthy  declared  to  you  that  Mr.  Doyle's  mouth 
will  not  be  closed,  and  that  some  interesting  facts 
will  get  into  the  papers  if  certain  persons  do  not 
cease  their  meddling  with  affairs  under  my  con- 
trol." 

"  Oh,  I  see !  "  exclaimed  the  other.  "  Captain 
McCarthy,  may  I  take  off  my  hat  again  ? " 

"  Certainly,  my  friend,  if  your  head  is  too  warm." 

A  long  silence  was  broken  by  the  person  who 
had  called  to  see  Captain  McCarthy.  "  You  are 
not  going  to  Richmond  then  ?  " 

"Not  if  you  will  kindly  give  my  friends  an 
account  of  our  conversation.  I  had  intended  to 
go,  but  you  can  save  me  the  journey." 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure  in  the  world,  Cap- 
tain.    But  your  friends  will  be  disappointed." 
309 


ON  THE  WING  OF  OCCASIONS 

"  If  no  worse  disappointment  befalls  them,  they 
will  have  few  troubles  in  this  world,  and  this  is  the 
lot  to  which  my  affection  commends  them." 

"Well,  I  must  rush  off  a  despatch,"  said  the 
other.  "  How  shall  I  put  it  ? " 

"Just  say  :  *  Doyle  was  with  McCarthy  in  New 
York  five  days  ago.'  That  will  cover  the 
ground." 

The  two  men  went  down  to  the  main  deck,  and 
Mr.  Doyle  arose  and  dressed  himself  very  hur- 
riedly. There  was  much  in  his  mind  for  which 
he  could  not  find  words.  He  was  not  elated  over 
what  seemed  to  be  his  escape ;  he  was  simply  re- 
joicing over  the  fact  that  his  travelling  companion, 
to  whom  he  had  become  very  much  attached,  and 
Captain  McCarthy  were  one  and  the  same  indi- 
vidual; and  he  was  grateful,  as  one  friend  is  to 
another,  for  his  singular  escape  from  a  fate  which 
he  himself  had  courted.  He  thought  of  a  thousand 
things  to  say  when  he  should  meet  his  friend,  but 
what  he  did  say  was  very  tame  and  commonplace. 

"  Captain  McCarthy,  you  have  been  very  good 
to  me." 

"  'Twas  a  mere  whim  of  mine,"  returned  the 
other,  with  a  quizzical  expression  in  his  face,  "a 
desire  to  please  my  little  girl."  But  Doyle  knew 
by  the  hearty  grip  the  Captain  gave  him  that  he 
had  been  saved  by  something  more  than  a  whim. 

310 


